


The Dragon Hunter's Daughter

by acs



Series: Closer Than They Appear [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, An Evil Witch - Freeform, Brittany tells a story, Campfire Tale, Dragons and a Princess and Elves Oh My, F/F, Gen, Many Guest Appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23123167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acs/pseuds/acs
Summary: This wasn't Brittany's first rodeo. Once, long ago, she wasn't the princess needing to be rescued. A tale from a past life of two cheerleaders in love. With dragons. And Elves. And adventure!
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: Closer Than They Appear [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662097
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a derivative (aka transformative) work. All BtVS characters belong to or were created by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the suits at Fox. Not sure who owns Glee now - Ryan Murphy created it and Fox originally broadcasted it.
> 
> The story at the center of this was my first completed NaNoWriMo novella, back in 2011. Looks like I'm never going to turn this into a pro-fic so I though I'd share it while I can. It's set in an AU series of BtVS/Glee/Sackett fics (Which explains someone's appearance in the prologue) that is currently posted elsewhere that I may post here someday. 
> 
> Don't post this elsewhere without permission. Really.
> 
> The prologue is new. The connecting material where Brittany is talking is also new. The rest is mostly eight years old. If you read any of my newer stories you'll notice a difference in style. I'd like to think I've gotten better but YMMV.
> 
> You don't need to read any of that series to read and enjoy this story.

Brittany blew on her mug for a few seconds before cautiously taking a sip, the bitter flavor of fresh roasted coffee beans slightly smoothed over with a hint of chocolate. She took another sip, and waited for the others to stop talking. The crackling of the bonfire gradually became the only sound, with the occasional whisper of cloth against other things as her audience waited for her to start.

"I promised a long time ago to tell you the complete story," she said to them. "The real story about how Brigid and Magdalena met, not just the official tale we share with strangers." She gestured at Santana sitting next to her, who nodded.

"This is that reincarnation story?" Quinn asked, looking over at Willow. "I thought that was just mystical new age nonsense."

"It happens," she said. "Though not everyone it happens to knows they've been reincarnated, and we don't really know why some people are reincarnated and not others."

"We're special," Santana said.

"We don't have any answers about reincarnation," Brittany said, sighing. "This isn't about that. It's just how we know this happened. They were us a long time ago." 

"How long will this take?" Rachel said, frowning. "I need a full night's sleep if I'm going to be at my best for tomorrow."

"Not all in one night," Santana said, glaring at her. 

"If we meet for a couple hours every night, while we're here, and you don't interrupt?" Brittany shrugged. "That should be plenty of time. It isn't a long story."

"She'll keep her mouth shut," Quinn said, poking Rachel. "And so will everyone else." The others nodded reluctantly.

"Good," Santana said. "If you don't, Brit will stop and we'll leave."

"San," Brittany said, shaking her head. "Don't be mean."

"Just being real," Santana said, smirking.

* * *

"This is the story of how Brigid, a dragon hunter's daughter, met true Dark Elves, rescued a princess from an evil witch, and finally fulfilled her dream of dragon hunting." 


	2. A Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid, the dragon hunter's daughter, runs into complications while on an early fall shopping trip.

Brigid shivered, pulling her hat down tighter against the blowing snow. Reaching over she shook the snow off a long dried branch before shoving one end of it into the crackling fire. When the blowing wind died down she could hear the cracking of the early ice out on the lake.

The snow had been a surprise this far down in the southern valley, so early in the season. She was still two days from the fort. And then ten days back to the cabin where her mother and younger brother waited. They needed the supplies to get through the winter. They'd caught and dried enough fish, and stored away roots and dried herbs to last till spring but they were running low on the spices and salt needed to preserve the reindeer she hunted for in the fall.

She planned to ask for news of her father at the fort but she didn't expect to hear anything. He'd gone south to the Great Desert two years ago on a commission for the king, his cousin. And even though her mother still held out hope of his return, Brigid suspected that the letter that had made it to them the previous spring was the last they'd hear from him.

It wasn't that she wanted him dead, but he'd drilled into her over and over again the dangers of his profession. Hunting real dragons, large or small, was not the glory filled adventure in the tales told by the king's skald around the gather fires. Dragons were dangerous and treacherous creatures and eventually even the best hunter would lose to a smarter, faster beast.

Brigid shivered in her sheltered campsite. She'd followed his advice and diligently practiced the things he taught her while he was away. He hadn't been able to take her as his apprentice but he'd taught her everything one could learn from a hunter of his stature. But the mountains around their cabin had been hunted out before she was born. She'd had to practice her hunting skills on less dangerous creatures, like bears, and reindeer.

They wouldn't bring much from the traveling merchants at the fort, but the two bearskins and small collection of pelts from smaller animals should be enough to trade for the things she needed. She really hoped the fort's smith still had that long knife he'd promised her during her summer visit in exchange for a bearskin.

Fat from the small hare she'd caught before setting up her sheltered camp sizzled as it dropped onto the burning embers. Brigid turned it slowly, carefully. She wasn't the best cook and didn't want to burn it. What she didn't eat, with her remaining dried apple, would be her morning meal.

Retreating into her shelter with the hare, she readied her meager meal. Using a flat rock brushed free of snow for a table, she carefully split the hare with her hunting knife, saving the legs for morning. Every smokey bite was worth the effort. The small heart, cooked with the liver and kidneys on the same spit as the rest of the hare was chewy, but delicious.

Wrapping up what she didn't eat in a piece of scrap leather, Brigid pulled her cloak close and fell into a light sleep.

* * *

The occasional clang of metal carried across the hills surrounding the fort. She was too far away to see it as more than a dark spot at the base of the far mountains, but the sound was comforting. If she kept up her current pace she would be there before dark. Adjusting her heavy pack, Brigid moved out from under the shade of the huge tree, and stepped carefully back onto the trail. The snow had melted the day before, leaving it a muddy, slippery mess.

She'd had the trail to herself so far. She'd expected a lot more activity this close to the fort but the fields and woods were empty. Occasionally she detected the smell of wood smoke but she couldn't see anything from the narrow path.

Coming out onto the large, grassy plain in front of the fort, she could see several distinctive swaths of burnt grass. She'd never seen anything like it before but she had some idea of the cause, based on descriptions from her father.

The empty fields sent a shiver up her back. The last time she'd been to the fort the fields in front of it had been a hive of activity with the local horse troops exercising and workers gathering hay. But not today. Today the only signs of life were flags fluttering along the high walls and the occasional flash of metal.

* * *

Brigid could feel eyes burning into her head from the fort as she cautiously approached the main gate. Before she could pound on the gate a side door opened and a head peeked out.

"Brigid! Get in here!" shouted Lars, an old hunting friend of her father, now a sergeant in the fort's troop. "What are you doing out there!"

Shrugging, Brigid jogged over, barely keeping on her feet when he dragged her inside by her cape.

"What's going on?" she asked, following him deeper into the fort.

"Something's been killing the king's sheep," he said, "and three days ago the princess went missing."

"What was the princess doing here?" Brigid asked, curious. She'd never met the princess, a distant cousin, but the antics of a family celebrity were ripe for gossip. Her mother wouldn't be happy if she missed this morsel.

"The king caught her with one of his guards," Lars said in a low voice. "He sent her here for the winter as punishment. The guard was assigned to the boats."

"To punish us, you mean," said another soldier, joining them. "She's a brat."

"Hush!" Lars said to him, before turning back to Brigid. "What brings you here?" he asked her again, stopping as they came out into the parade ground.

"Needed a few things," she said. "It's going to be an early winter so I thought I'd come here while I could."

"Early winter?" the other soldier asked skeptically.

"Pay no attention to him," Lars said, sitting in a stool against the wall. "He's from the south. They think it's a hard winter if it snows before the winter solstice."

"There was a storm up in the hills several days ago," Brigid told them. "The road's still a mess," she said, lifting a foot to show off her mud covered boots. "Who's here?"

"The Moor came in the day before yesterday with the usual," Lars said. "And One-eyed Woerd has been here for a week."

"Anyone else?" Brigid asked, grimacing. She could get what she wanted from either of them but she wouldn't have much left over for any extras. The Moor was good for spices and exotic materials for her mother but it would cost her. And some of his men paid her too much attention.

"They've all gone to the west fort," Lars said. "Afraid for their skins," he added, spitting at the ground.

"So it's definitely a dragon?" she asked, trying to hide her excitement. She'd never seen one large enough to steal sheep, or carry off a screaming princess.

"Why do you think it's a dragon?" the solder asked, apparently not impressed by a girl dressed in men's clothes.

Brigid raised an eyebrow, and gave Lars a look. "Because it is?"

Lars laughed before explaining. "Her father is Wilfredson, the famous dragon hunter," he said, clearly proud of the local celebrity.

"Why isn't he here taking care of it?"

"The king sent him somewhere," Lars said, "on a hunt."

"And he's probably dead," Brigid said.

"He'll be back," Lars said, frowning at her.

"It's been two years,” she said, shaking her head, not willing to get her hopes up. "Has anyone gone after the princess?" she asked. Distant family was still family. If her father was here he would go after her.

"Who?" Lars asked. "The Captain's messenger left yesterday morning. It'll take two days for him to get to the king and for someone to be sent back."

Brigid shook her head. She didn't pay much attention to the goings on of royalty, unlike her mother, and wasn't sure she even knew the princess's name. She'd always just been 'The Princess' when her parents talked. She wondered why Lars, defender of women and children, didn't seem too concerned about the princess's fate at the claws of some unknown beast. She couldn't be that bad.

"Well, I need to find a place for the night," she said, dismissing the princess from her thoughts in favor of more immediate concerns. It wasn't like she could do anything about going after her with all of her dragon hunting gear back at the compound with her mother.

"I've got room in my bed," the soldier said with a grin.

"I'd rather sleep outside with the dragon. You look like you have fleas," Brigid said, causing Lars to burst out laughing.

"She's much too good for you," Lars said, winking at her.

"I come from a very respectable family," the soldier protested. "She should be honored at the offer. My family have been raiders for the king for five generations."

"And why would she want some scruffy soldier to warm her bed," Lars said, "when she could have a prince or the Captain."

"Her?" He looked her up and down, grimacing. "She looks like she grew up in the forest, with the wild beasts."

"Her father is a cousin of the king, and her mother's father was a son of Thor," Lars said. "She's better with a spear than you are."

"She looks like a weak little girl to me," the soldier said, with an exaggerated huff.

"She's taller than the Captain," Lars said, holding his hand high in the air.

"Standing on a ladder," he retorted, waving his arms excitedly.

Brigid just shook her head at their antics. She was here for business, not a husband. Or even just a romp, if she were remotely interested. But that would interfere with her plans. She cleared her throat loudly. "A bed?" she asked Lars.

"Old Meg might have a spare bed," Lars told her. Brigid nodded in thanks and picked her pack back up, leaving them to their argument. She really didn't want to listen to them discussing her other 'womanly' features once they got tired of discussing her height or marriage prospects. She got enough of that from her mother's sisters when they visited.

* * *

Stepping out into the street, Brigid sighed at the lightness of her pack. The bearskins had fetched less than she expected. Several of the pelts she'd ended up giving to Old Meg for a corner near the fire in her tavern's main room for the night. She just barely had enough to buy the things her mother had insisted on. It was turning into another trip where she watched the smith make weapons for the troop but couldn't take anything home with her, like that knife he'd made her.

Automatically bending down, she entered the smithy through the street entrance. Even at sixteen summers, she was taller than most women in the province and more than a few men. Fortunately, her father's old clothes fit, with a little adjustment, so she didn't look too ragged.

Her mother despaired of her ever wearing women's clothes, but Brigid didn't really care. A dress was just too cumbersome in the woods, and attracted the wrong kind of attention when she visited the fort. She'd only worn one once there, the last time the entire family had made a trip in, and she'd gotten into a fight with some snipe when she'd followed her father into the tavern on business. Men's clothes were just easier.

"Brigid! You've gotten taller!" the smith's wife exclaimed, seeing her.

"You just saw me this summer," she protested.

"You still have," she said. "But you're still dressing in your father's old things. What must your mother think! When she was your age all of the raiders followed her around like lost wolf pups."

Brigid shrugged. "Does he still have it?" she asked plainly, not wanting to continue talking about things she couldn't control, like her mother's conquests. She wasn't her mother. Even though she admired her loyalty to her father, she wasn't her. Life wasn't about pretty clothes and men. There were other things she thought were more important.

"He's been keeping it just for you," she said.

Brigid breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she could convince him to keep it for her until next spring. "Is he here?"

The smith's wife shook her head. "He's in a meeting with the Captain and the town council."

"Oh," Brigid said. "Could you let him know I was here? I'll see him next time. Probably in the spring," she added.

"And the knife?" she asked, picking her broom back up and returning to her sweeping.

"Next time," Brigid said, knowing that the smith's wife couldn't guarantee they would still have it. Sighing, she turned around and went back out into the crowded street.

* * *

Brigid shifted her much lighter pack on her shoulders. She'd gotten what she came for, plus a little extra, trading one of the small pelts for some ribbon for her mother and a small piece of rock candy for her brother. But not what she really wanted for herself. No knife, and no message from her father. If the weather held out and she was lucky, she might be able to make one more trip before winter settled into the valley, but she didn't hold much hope of that happening.

Walking past the town hall in the middle of the fort, she had to go around a large, noisy crowd. Far on the other side she spotted Lars and the soldier from earlier, still together but now near the inner entrance to the parade ground.

"What's going on?" she asked, stopping next to them, waving towards the crowd.

"The King has offered a reward to anyone who rescues the princess," Lars said.

"How long has she been gone?" Brigid asked, chewing on a fingernail.

"Three days," the soldier said. "What does the great dragon hunter think of that?"

"If I see one I'll let you know," she said. "She's dead by now," Brigid added, giving her opinion in a low voice that only they could hear.

"Don't let the king's man hear you say that," the soldier said.

"This isn't some skald's tale," Brigid told them. "Unless it's an enchanted dragon, it probably ate her as soon as it got her back to its nest."

"I bet it was enchanted," the soldier said. "Only an enchanted dragon would dare come so close to the fort."

"Or a hungry one," Lars said, shaking his head.

"Enchanted dragons are rare," Brigid said, repeating something her father told her. "Magic doesn't always work on the big ones and a little one wouldn't be able to carry her off."

"Two dragons?" the soldier said hopefully. "Three maybe?"

"No," she said firmly. Brigid giggled at his pout.

"Are you going to go after it?" asked Lars.

Brigid frowned, and thought for a minute, weighing everything she knew. "She's dead," she repeated. "Do you want to go find her bones for the king?" she asked. She didn't have to tell them what the king's reaction was likely to be to anyone bringing him a bag of bones and claiming they belonged to the princess. A renowned raider in his youth, something like that wouldn't bring out the best in him.

"No!" they both said, shaking their heads in unison.

Readjusting her pack, Brigid nodded to them and stepped back into the milling crowd. Sliding between the onlookers, she made her way to the front to get a look at the announcement. She ignored the silence that seemed to spread around her as she struggled to read it, squinting at the Latin the king's scribes preferred to use. She could make out an amount and a word here and there, just enough to get the general idea.

She suspected buried in the pile of words she didn't understand were ones that made it easy for the king to not have to pay a successful rescuer and laying claim to the dragon's treasure, but that could just be her father's cynicism speaking in the back of her head. Her father said the king was a good man, as kings go, but only a fool trusted a former raider with their wealth.

Turning around, she gulped at the sight that met her eyes. A clear circle had opened out around her while she stood at the notice. The eyes of several hundred townspeople, soldiers, and others watched her intently. Shaking her head, not saying a word, she stepped forward towards the gate, the whispering crowd parting before her.

When she reached the smaller gate, the whispers had grown to a low rumble. Waiting patiently for the guard to open the door, she pretended to ignore the crowd, the occasional word reaching her ears. If she had to guess, from what she heard, they expected her to go after the princess, a truly baffling idea. As far as she knew they didn't think she was a real hunter. All of the furs she'd brought in over the past two years could have been from animals she trapped, she thought, ignoring the bearskins. And just because her father had never taken on an apprentice didn't make her a substitute for him.

Taking a deep breath as the gate closed behind her, Brigid strode off, being careful to avoid the still muddy patches. She didn't want to spend even a day on the road with wet feet.

* * *

It wasn't long into her trip back, a short time after stopping for her midday meal, before she started to feel that she was being followed. Without back-tracking she couldn't be sure how many there were, but they weren't being very silent, so she could be wrong. They might just be fellow travelers heading in the same direction. The road crossed the valley for most of its length before branching off in several directions.

When she stopped for the night, Brigid carefully selected a well hidden campsite further off the road than normal. She was always careful when traveling by herself, not wanting to be caught and sold into slavery by one of the roving bands of landless raiders that wandered the province, but this called for some extra effort because, if they had followed her from the fort, they would know who she was.

With the raiders she was more concerned about what they would do to her before selling her into slavery. The bands she'd heard stories about were not known for treating their captives well. At least whomever was behind her wasn't a raider on the hunt, they were much too noisy for that.

* * *

Three days of cold meals, hiding from the men following her, had her extra cranky. It wasn't that she was hungry but with the cold nights, being out in the woods without a chance to light a fire and get warm, her desire to avoid confronting them was waning. If they were still behind her when she turned off the road and took the path for home, she wasn't going to be happy. She wasn't going to lead anyone to the cabin if she could help it. But first she had to get far enough ahead of them to find out who they were.

As she traveled she started looking for a place where she could spy on her followers. It was close to dusk when she saw it. Several hundred paces from the road was a large oak tree, the kind she could see being made into a mast for a raider's dragon boat. If she could hide in it she could spy down on whomever was behind her and they would never know.

Reaching the tree she stared up at it in wonder. It must be several hundred seasons old, she though, leaning against its massive trunk. Putting down her pack, she fished out her long line. It didn't look like much but the long, plaited leather rope could easily hold her weight when she was dry.

Tying one end of the rope around a rock, she heaved it up and around a large branch almost three times her height from the ground. Tightening it into a loop around the branch, she tied the free end to her pack. Pulling on her hunting gloves, Brigid began to climb the rope. Reaching the branch, she gratefully pulled herself up onto it.

After a short rest, Brigid pulled up her pack. Balancing on the branch, she looked up, hoping to find a safe place to settle while she waited. She didn't think they would find her but they would become suspicious if she completely disappeared.

She used another shorter line to secure her pack to the tree, sheltered by three overlapping branches. Wedging herself between two branches nearby, she waited for them to appear.

* * *

It was hard to tell the time, deep in the tree's branches, but it must have been at least half a day before they reached her position. If she counted correctly there were six or maybe eight men. Several of them looked familiar. They must have followed her from the fort. One of them was richly dressed. Too richly dressed for someone living in the fort, she decided as he strutted around. Another was dressed like a scribe. The others were scruffy looking, wearing stained jerkins and torn hose.

But they were all armed, some with long knives that flashed in the sun. The rich man, and two others had swords, though she wasn't close enough to see more than that. She didn't see any spears or bows.

She was hidden high enough up in the tree that they couldn't see her if they didn't know where to look. Brigid watched curiously as they made camp in the small clearing between her tree and the trail, different men moving in and out of view.

They were very sloppy for raiders. They didn't make any shelters, just dropping their packs randomly in the clearing while one of them tried to get a fire going with branches dragged into the center of the clearing. She could see one of the scruffier men starting to skin a brace of rabbits while this was going on.

They didn't post any guards but, although she prided herself on her skills in the forest, there were too many of them for her to sneak past. She was going to have to wait until they slept. Which couldn't be too long she thought when they followed their crude meal by draining a skin that contained a brew potent enough for her to smell it from her position in her tree.

* * *

Their voices carried to her on the breeze, along with the smell of roasting meat. She tried to attach voices to faces but they weren't all visible from her position now that they'd stopped moving around.

"Any sign of that brat?" the cultured voice she identified with the rich looking man asked.

"She's gone to ground for the night," someone else said. "We'll catch up to her on the morrow."

"I told you we should have followed closer," a whiney voice said.

"If she'd seen us she would have led us away from the dragon and kept everything for herself," another voice said. "Don't forget, her father was the best dragon hunter in the province. It's said he taught her everything he knew."

"She's just a rich brat of a girl," rich voice said disdainfully. "The only thing she's going to lead us to is her father's treasure."

"She doesn't act like she's rich," a new voice said. "The fort's wenches dress better."

"Dragon gold is cursed," said someone.

"Cursed?"

"Not true," a gruff voice said. "You just have to pour blood of an innocent on it to remove the curse."

"Where are we going to get innocent blood?"

"The princess should have plenty of it," one of them said. "Or we can use the girl after she kills the dragon. They say she's still a virgin."

"Geordson is just angry that she turned him down," said the whiney voice. "A girl like that? She's probably had every soldier at the fort."

"The first trooper to touch her would have had his head decorating the wall," a firm voice disagreed, though not as loudly as Brigid might have hoped. "The Captain was a friend of her father. And that sergeant was a hunter years ago They stick together."

"Her father is dead," the rich voice said. "The King sent him after the gorgon that lives in the south desert."

"A gorgon is a rich prize," one of them said, pompously. “Its liver cures all manner of ills, and you can see the future looking into an eye."

"I heard the king sent him after the gorgon so his wizard could make a potion for the queen," someone said. "He wants a son. All she's given him are those princess brats."

"I heard there was a golden dragon spotted in the Ice Mountains," one of them said. "The king offered him Loki's singing sword if he brought it back alive."

"Nonsense," the rich voice said. "The King was just getting rid of a rival. He sent him off with Wilfredson on an impossible mission."

"It doesn't matter," a new voice said. "He isn't here to protect them."

"And if there's no dragon?"

"Her mother should fetch a good price on the western shore," rich voice said lazily. "That slaver that travels with the Moor is offering more for the brat undamaged than the king for word of his own daughter."

"How undamaged?" gruff voice asked.

"Alive, no permanent scars," rich voice said.

"And the gold?"

"I'm sure we can think of something," rich voice said. "We don't need all of her blood to break the curse."

"I want to see the dragon," grumbled one of the voices. "And that princess bitch burnt to a crisp."

"That should be easy to arrange," whiney voice said. "If the dragon hasn't already eaten her just to shut her up."

"We let her kill the dragon, yes?" someone said. "Can she really do it?"

"Her father was full of tricks. It takes more than strength to kill a dragon. He must have taught them to her."

"He had an enchanted spear," whiney voice said. "They say he didn't take it with him on his last hunt."

"Once she starts fighting the dragon we can get the gold," firm voice told them. "And if she kills it we'll have her also."

"You can have the girl, Geordson," rich voice said. "I want her mother and the dragon's gold."

* * *

Hearing their plans, Brigid felt ill. Not because they expected to be able to overpower her after she killed the dragon and steal its gold, but because of what they had in mind for her mother and herself even if she led them to the dragon's hoard.

Brigid waited until they were all asleep before climbing down out of her tree. She wasn't surprised that they didn't bother posting a watch. Not only were they arrogant but they seemed totally unaware of the dangers of the wilderness. There might not be any dragons but there were other dangerous creatures in the woods, including true raiders willing to prey on the weak.

Since they obviously had someone who could track her, she was going to have to be extra careful. If her father was here she knew he would do something clever, like lead them into a trap, but she knew enough to know that she couldn't do that. Her only hope was to get up to her parent's cabin before they did, get her mother and brother into hiding, and wait for them to show up.

If she had to, she would kill them, she thought optimistically, but she would rather just scare them away. How she would do that she didn't know yet. Even at her smartest pace, giving herself several hours of sleep, the compound was still two days away. But that was two days faster than she hoped these men would take attempting to follow her. Her fasted path would not be theirs. She would have plenty of time on the way to think of a real plan.

Carefully stepping around the tree, and leaving the raiders to their slumber, Brigid slipped deeper into the dark. She knew they would see her trail in the morning, it was too dark for her to hide it, and if she wasn't trying to exhaust them before they reached the compound with a twisted trail she couldn't.

* * *

She'd taken several quick naps along the way, once she was far enough ahead of them, but creating an obvious trail over the roughest terrain that they would follow, but still gaining enough time to get to the compound to get her mother and brother safely out of the way until she dealt with them was not as easy as she'd originally thought it would be.

It had been an extra dry year so she hadn't been able to use the path through the normally treacherous swamps so she had taken the path where it branched through the old tin mines. If you weren't familiar with that area there were a number of dangerous places where open pits appeared to block the trail.

The compound was nestled in a small valley in the hills at the northern edge of the mountains. There'd been a small dragon population but they'd been hunted out before she was old enough to hold her father's favorite dragon spear off the ground. A small river cut across the valley, before disappearing underground. The compound's well water came from the same source. There was a small herd of swine that roamed the valley and provided extra meat during the winter.

Brigid stopped for a minute outside the compound to compose herself. Now she had to convince her mother to take her brother up to the cave her father had set up as a hiding place if the compound was ever overrun by raiders.


	3. Raiders!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid deals with the raiders. But there's no ark.

"You aren't going to stop there now, are you?" Rachel said. "It's still early."

"Yeah, what happened to the raiders?" one of the others shouted from across the bonfire.

"Fine," Brittany said, nodding. "Brigid and the raiders, and then we'll continue tomorrow."

* * *

Brigid stumbled into the compound just before noon. Leaving behind her pack, hidden high in the tree, had been a risk but she would go back for it after she took care of the raiders. But first her mother and brother needed to be safely tucked away in the cave her father had prepared for an emergency.

Six families had originally lived in the compound, but as the hunting in the nearby mountains had decreased the dragon population they had all moved away except for her parents. If she could get a few hours rest, she could hold off the raiders for several days, hopefully long enough for them to get bored and move on once they saw she wasn't going dragon hunting.

Her mother was busy feeding her prized hens, with her brother Sven playing in the dirt in front of the door to their cabin.

"Brigid? What's wrong?" She asked, taking in Brigid's bedraggled appearance.

"You and Sven need to get up to the cave," Brigid said. "Bring enough food for three days."

"Why?" She asked.

"Raiders," Brigid said. "I'll chase them off but I need you two safe first."

"Raiders? Up here?" Her mother exclaimed. "And why would you stay here? There's room in the cave for all of us."

"It's a long story," Brigid said. "I'll explain on the way, but we need to do this quickly. Before they get here."

"Okay," her mother reluctantly said, turning and putting the basket of feed on a stool.

* * *

"Explain," her mother said, when they stopped halfway up to the cave to take a break.

Nodding, Brigid put down the large bags she was carrying. "It snowed two days from the fort, but I still made good time. When I got to the fort there was nobody outside, and I could see large burn marks in the grass."

"The grass was still wet from the snow?" Her mother asked.

"Yes," Brigid said. "The burns happened after the snow fell."

"Dragon?"

"That's what I thought," Brigid said, nodding in agreement. People often forgot that her mother came from a family of dragon hunters herself, even if she'd never gone on a dragon hunt herself. "But no one saw what made the marks."

"No one?" She frowned.

"No. But something stole some of the King's sheep," Brigid said. After a dramatic pause, punctuated by her mother's raised eyebrow, she added, "And the princess is missing. They think that the something that took the sheep took her too."

"What was the princess doing at the fort?" Her mother asked.

"Lars said she was being punished by the King for getting involved with one of his guards," Brigid said.

"Lars is an old gossip," her mother said, dismissively. "So, missing princess?"

"Yes," Brigid said.

"And what does this have to do with the raiders we are hiding from?" she asked.

"The King offered a reward to anyone who went after the dragon and brought the princess back," Brigid said, "though I'm sure she's already dead, if it really was a dragon. I think it was slavers."

"And the raiders?" her mother prodded, picking Sven back up.

Brigid shrugged. "They think I'm going dragon hunting, so they've been following me so they can rob the dragon after I kill it. They aren't going to be happy when they get here and find out I wasn't. It's just safer if you and Sven aren't around when they do."

"Why would they think you're going dragon hunting," her mother asked.

"I might have looked at the reward notice from the King's scribes in front of everyone?" Brigid said sheepishly. "I didn't say anything to anyone. They must have decided I would go after the dragon."

"Ah. And how do you know what their plans are?" her mother asked, frowning at her.

"I discovered they were following me a day from the fort," Brigid said. "I found a place where I could spy on them, so I heard them talking about their plans."

"They were going to do more than just rob the dragon," her mother said bluntly. "And you would prefer that I not know what they said?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brigid murmured.

"We will be talking about this later," her mother said.

Brigid grimaced but nodded. She never could keep secrets from her mother.

* * *

The cave was high in the hills behind the compound. There was a hidden path leading from the compound, carefully hidden from most eyes.

After putting the bags in the back of the cave, Brigid turned to leave, but not before her mother could give her some advice.

"You aren't trained to fight raiders," her mother told her. "They are very different than the beasts your father taught you to hunt."

"Papa didn't teach me to hunt dragons," Brigid said faintly.

"Don't lie to me," her mother said. "He told me what he was doing. He just couldn't make you his apprentice because women aren't allowed to be dragon hunter apprentices," she said. "I went through the same thing with my father, but I had a brother and never needed to hunt."

"I don't need to fight them," Brigid said, "Just scare them off."

Her mother shook her head. "Please be careful. You're my only daughter."

"I will," Brigid said.

"When this is over we will need to plan your trip to rescue the princess," her mother said. "So make sure you don't get killed."

"Rescue the princess?" Brigid said. "Why would you think I would do that?"

"For the adventure? You're still young. And because she's family? Even if she's dead the King will want to know."

Brigid sighed but she didn't argue. She hadn't been sure that hunting for the creature that stole the princess, assuming she didn't just wandered off on her own or been stolen by slavers, was a good idea but her mother's approval tipped the scales in that direction.

On her way back to the compound she carefully hid any traces of her mother and brother. They were safe for several weeks, if need be, but only if no one found them through some mistake of her own.

* * *

Brigid wasn't sure how long she had before the raiders arrived, assuming they followed her trail and didn't just head for the compound, since they knew who she was.

The compound was kept in good shape, something her mother insisted on. One side was up against the steep rock wall of an outcrop of one of the nearby hills. One of the first things her father and his fellow hunters had done when building the compound was to make sure that the only way to the top of the outcrop was from inside the compound. A covered lookout post had been built at the highest point. If you knew it was there, you could see it from the cave her mother and brother were hiding in. Once the compound was prepared for the raiders, she would go up there and wait for them.

The compound's main gate was kept open in the summer, except at night. It usually took both her and her mother to close it but her father had shown her a trick for closing it quickly in an emergency, though they wouldn't have the strength to reset the quick release. That would have to wait until her father returned.

Brigid was glad it was a small compound. Something like the fort would have been impossible for her to defend. Taking a last walk around the outside, she burned into her mind all of her favorite places. She'd been confident when talking with her mother but she was so tired, after traveling so quickly from the fort and now getting the compound prepared for raiders. She didn't know if she would survive but she would try. Sixteen summers was not enough time to do all of the things she wanted to.

Reaching the outlook, Brigid looked around. From there she could see all the way to the wood on the other side of the small river that crossed the small plain in front of the compound. The was no sign of the raiders yet, so she decided to take a quick nap. They wouldn't be able to get into the compound and would wake her up if they tried with the tripwires she'd set up.

* * *

A loud pounding at sunset woke Brigid up. Sitting up, she looked down towards the gate. A party of men was visible from her position, some of them she recognized from the camp by the old oak tree several days earlier. Counting them, she wasn't sure if that was all of them or if they'd been joined by several others.

She didn't want them to know she was alone but she hadn't been able to think of a way around it. All of the ways she'd heard of in tales to trick raiders weren't possible with the time and things she'd had in the compound.

Climbing down from the outlook, she grabbed a dried apple and took a bite. It'd been a while since she'd eaten, and she quickly ate it. Stopping at the small shed that held all of the compound's weapons, she put on the smallest chain mail shirt she could find, before going to the gate. Opening it to see who it was would be the wrong thing to do, but fortunately there was a low tower inside, on either side of the gate, with a skinny walkway linking them. You couldn't see it from the outside but you could use it to drop things on raiders trying to break down the gate without them seeing you. Unfortunately, the walkway didn't go all around the wall.

"There's no one here," a scruffy man said. "It's all boarded up." Brigid recognized him as the whiney voice.

"She must be," a short man with a red, bushy beard said. "Her trail leads here. And I'm never wrong about things like this."

"Break it down," the rich man ordered. "She's inside somewhere, and I don't plan to spend another night outside."

"Looks sturdy," said a man she thought might have been a soldier she'd encountered at the fort on her last visit in the spring. Luckily Lars had rescued her from him before she had to prove her ability to defend herself.

"Go find a large log and batter it down," the rich man ordered. To Brigid's amusement this started an argument between him, the soldier, and the tall man dressed like a scribe. From the yelling, she thought that they really hadn't decided who was in charge of their ragged raiding party.

She decided to help them decide what to do. "Go away!" she shouted. "There's nothing here for you!"

"Told you she was in there," said Red Beard.

"Open the door, girl," the rich man shouted at her.

"Why?" she shouted back. "You aren't welcome here."

"We were out hunting and need a place for the night," Red Beard said.

"Who are you?" Brigid said.

"Travelers," the whiney man said.

"This isn't a tavern," Brigid yelled down at them. "There's one at the fort, that way," she added waving off towards the mountains.

"Where's your father, girl," said the rich man. "Go fetch him, so we can tell him how you treat guests."

"You aren't guests anyone here invited," Brigid said, shouted down at them. "You look like that band of brigands that they hung down at the fort last summer. I think you're ghosts. Go away and haunt someone else!"

"Ghosts?" the whiney man said loudly, "we're not ghosts."

"Open the door or we'll break it down!" the rich man ordered her.

"It's a good door," Brigid said dismissively. "Thor himself blessed it. It would take a raiding party twice as big as yours to break it down."

"Do as I say, girl!" he ordered, his face going red.

"No!" Brigid shouted back. Reaching down, she grabbed several large rocks from a basket in the tower. "Go away, before I get angry," she shouted, tossing the rocks at him and Red Beard, hitting both of them.

Pulling out his sword, the rich man waved it at her and shouted angrily, "Get down here. If I have to come after you you'll regret it!"

"You mean so you can sell me to the slavers?" she said. "I'd rather die!"

"That can be arranged," Red Beard said, throwing one of the rocks back, only missing her because she ducked as soon as she spotted his arm moving.

Throwing more rocks, she drove them back from the gate. That wouldn't last for long, she knew. It was mostly surprise at the rocks that moved them. She liked to think of herself as an excellent hunter and someday a famous dragon hunter, but these were rough men. Even the rich one seemed no stranger to fighting. He'd just stood there, glaring at her, the second time she threw rocks, not frightened in the least.

"I'm not coming out!" she repeated.

"We aren't going to hurt you!" the one who looked like a scribe said.

"Go away before I lose my temper," she warned them, shifting uncomfortably. She was sweating in her chain mail undercoat. She wondered how anyone could fight in even light armor. So far it was a miserable experience. Sure it protected her but they weren't throwing anything back to make it worth while.

Wiping the sweat from her face, Brigid watched them intently as they moved further back, out of throwing range. She wasn't too surprised when they built a large bonfire near the river and made themselves comfortable for the night. She was going to have to keep a close eye on them. She didn't think they were organized enough to do anything in the dark together but something about the soldier and Red Beard made her nervous.

* * *

They sat outside the compound for a day before attempting anything. Brigid was getting bored with the waiting, but she had a strong feeling that they expected her to let them in on her own when she saw them not doing anything. But she wasn't going to fall for that since she already knew their plans. She'd taken to sleeping in the tower, just in case, the chain mail rubbing her raw in a few sensitive spots. To keep warm she kept a small brasier filled with hot coals going.

Somewhere they'd actually found a large log to use as a ram and sharpened one end to a point without her seeing them do it. The four largest men carried it while the others cheered them on, occasionally throwing rocks over the wall, trying to hit her.

The gate shook when they hit it. Grabbing one of the arrows she'd prepared with pitch, she lit it from the brasier. Picking up her short bow, she stood up, and leaning slightly, shot the log, setting it on fire right next to one of the men holding up its pointed end. Not stopping to see if he'd dropped it, Brigid ducked down and prepared another flaming arrow.

This time, her aim was ruined by a rock thrown by one of them. Instead of her next arrow hitting the log, it hit the scribe. His overcoat must have been greased to keep out the rain, bursting into flames. His screams as he tried to put it out surprised the other raiders long enough for Brigid to get over her own shock and get back under cover.

The screams lasted for only a few moments before they were suddenly cut off. Peaking over the wall, Brigid could see the soldier wiping his blade off on the smoldering corpse of the scribe. Feeling suddenly nauseous, Brigid slumped back down. She'd thought she might have to kill some of them, but the reality that she was responsible for the death of someone was not a pleasant feeling.

Her father had trained her for years to fight dragons, and she'd accepted the danger of fighting an intelligent, dangerous foe, but the reality of killing someone, even a raider who wanted to hurt her, was completely different. It wasn't like killing a deer or a bear. Or a dragon.

The wall shook as the ram hit it again, bringing her out of her shock. She could deal with this later, if she survived.

Peeking over the wall, she watched the men move back to get another run at the wall. This time she didn't bother setting up a flaming arrow, instead grabbing one of her hunting arrows. They must have thought it was an accident, she thought, watching the other men. They'd dragged the scribe away but none of the remaining raiders seemed to have shields.

She didn't have a lot of arrows, so she had to make them count. Standing up, she quickly shot at the men carrying the ram, getting off two arrows before they reacted by trowing more rocks, one of them glancing painfully off of her shoulder. From the loud swearing below, she thought she might have hit another raider.

* * *

After several more attempts, and more of her precious arrows hitting several of the raiders, they appeared to give up for the day. Brigid waited until they'd settled back at their fire before hurrying off the wall to grab several slices of cured pork, and several handfuls of apples from the compound storehouse to replenish her stash up on the wall. She could last quite a while but her mother and brother couldn't. She needed to settle it tomorrow. She was still reluctant to kill any more of them but they didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave, even though she'd injured a few of them and accidentally killed the scribe.

The moon had just gone behind some clouds when a noise further along the wall woke her from a light nap. Cautiously sitting up, she looked towards the sound. Something had been thrown over the wall. She watched it being pulled back and then thrown again. Then a similar noise came from the other side of the gate. It took a few long moments before she realized what she was seeing. They planned to scale the wall in two places she couldn't reach from the gate towers.

One rope was attached to the wall above the storehouse. Once they reached the top getting to the ground inside the compound would be easy. The other one had nothing below it. It would be a ten pace fall if they didn't have a rope to go down. Not fatal, unless luck was with her. But either way, she would have multiple raiders to deal with.

Aiming carefully, she waited for the climbers to poke their heads over the wall. She had better than average vision but she was going to need more than her share of luck to make a shot. And if she did, she would still have to quickly deal with the ropes so they couldn't use them again.

The first one was to her right, near the storehouse. Brigid waited until more than a head was visible and then let the arrow go. The raider disappeared, falling with a crash. From the resulting yelling she hoped more than one had fallen. Quickly turning to the other rope, she shot at the other raider. This one was already leaning into the compound and fell inside, hitting with a large crash as he collided with a cart below him. Grabbing her spear, Brigid climbed down from the gate tower and cautiously approached the fallen raider.

It was the skinny whiner. Her arrow had taken him in his left shoulder, not fatal if taken care of, but he'd broken his neck when he hit the ground. She hadn't really considered him a threat, being taller than him, but one less raider to fight was good. But she couldn't just leave the dead raider there.

Looking up at the rope and hook dangling from the wall, Brigid frowned. She didn't want to leave it there, but the other one was in a more dangerous spot.

Brigid turned at the sound of something dropping onto the ground. Looking towards the storehouse and the other rope, she saw a dark figure approaching the gate. Reacting quickly, she raced to the gate herself. With no time to be careful the noise of her feet alerted the raider.

He turned to meet her, just as the moon came out from the clouds. It was Red Beard. He was shorter than her but massive, outweighing her by a large amount. Brigid stopped before getting within reach of his massive hands.

"Just give up, girl," he said. "We'll go easy on you."

"You plan to sell my mother to slavers," Brigid growled.

"Just lead us to the dragon's gold and we'll let you go," he said.

"I don't believe you," she said. "This is my home. Leave!"

"I was about to," he said, smiling at her. "Let me open the gate and go. We can talk in the morning."

If she hadn't heard the raiders talking, she might have believed him. Possibly. "No, go out the way you came in," she said, pointing at the rope dangling from the wall.

"There's no rope on this side," he protested.

"There's a ladder next to the storehouse," she said, pointing back the way he'd come.

The moment her eyes were off him, he rushed her. Expecting something like that from him, she spun around out of his path, swinging the butt of the spear at his head. He turned and came at her again, this time holding a long blade in one hand.

Parrying like her father had taught her, she felt the blade whistling past her head. Dodging out of the way she swung at him again, this time the spear blade sliced into his arm.

She reacted instinctively as they fought in the dark, her only advantages being her reach and the spear which could slice through anything. At last, she got lucky. And she knew it was luck, Red Beard was a much better fighter. If there had been more light he would have had her spitted on his knife before she had a chance to even raise her spear in defense. Slipping under his guard, she drove the spear into his chest, pinning him to the gate.

Exhausted, she slumped back, barely keeping on her feet. He died before he could free himself, without saying another word.

* * *

Exhausted, Brigid stared out across the plain as the sun came up. She wondered what they would try next. She could see their camp in the distance, but there was no movement, just a thin trail of smoke rising into the cold air. Nothing changed as the sun rose in the sky.

Looking down at the gate, she couldn't see any of the raiders.

She needed to do something with the two dead raiders in the compound before they started to smell. Climbing down from the tower, Brigid opened the peep-hole and looked outside to make sure the gate was still clear of raiders. Opening the gate just a crack, she slid out, spear in one hand, small shield in the other, closing it behind her, hoping no one had seen her.

Still seeing no movement, she stepped further away from the compound until she could see to the edges of the wall. From there she could see a large object slumped against the wall below one of the ropes they'd tried to use to get into the compound the night before. Cautiously, and slowly, she walked over to the wall. She grimaced when she saw it was another one of the raiders. She poked him with the butt of the spear. When there was no movement, she pushed him over onto his back with a kick.

It was the one who'd looked like that soldier. Her arrow had gotten him at the base of the throat. Another lucky shot. She owed Freyja a sacrifice for that one and the others. It could only have been with her help that four of the raiders were killed. And for not getting more than a few bruises fighting them.

Still not seeing any movement, Brigid cautiously walked down to the raider's camp. She grimaced at the mess they'd made. Trash was scattered over the ground between several lean-to's. It looked like they'd left in a hurry, after fighting over the possessions of the dead men. She was going to have to burn everything, she decided after poking her head into one of the shelters.

Brigid wondered why they'd run away. But not for long. In the largest lean-to was the stripped body of the rich man. Someone had cut his throat. She wasn't going to worry too much about who or why. The remaining raiders hadn't really made an impression but she assumed one of them had done it for their own reasons, and the remaining raiders had scattered, leaving her with the clean-up.

The first step would be to burn the bodies. She wasn't going to taint the ground, or the river with them. They didn't deserve a real burial.

* * *

Dragging the bodies onto the handcart and then rolling it over to the large pile of brush wasn't a pleasant task. Fortunately, the wind was blowing away from the compound, so the smell from the fiercely burning pyre was only a faint distraction as she cleaned up the rest of the mess left behind by the raiders. By noon everything was cleaned up enough that the only evidence of the attack was the still burning pyre. She could get her mother and brother from the cave.

* * *

It took Brigid an hour to get back up to the cave. Approaching it cautiously, she tapped out the all clear code on the hollow log at the entrance twice with the butt of her spear. Sitting on the log, she waited for her mother and Sven to make an appearance.

"Brigid, Brigid! Look what I have!" Sven shouted, running out of the cave.

"Whoa!" she said, grabbing him before he could knock her over. "Where's Mama?" she asked him.

"She's coming," he said, waving dirty hands in her face. "Look!"

"What have you got?" she asked, relieved.

"It's a white cricket," he said, opening his hands a crack to show her. "It lives in the cave, near the pond."

"Shouldn't you put it back?" she asked. "It belongs in the cave."

"I found it," he said, as if that settled it. Brigid shook her head but didn't try to change his mind. She didn't think telling him she'd tried to take a white cricket from the caves once and it died would mean anything at his age.

"Brigid, you look tired," her mother said, joining them. "No injuries?" she asked, running her eyes carefully over her daughter.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just some bruises."

Her mother shook her head, obviously not believing her. "And the raiders?"

"Taken care of," Brigid said.

"So they won't be back?"

"I don't think so," she said.

"Good," her mother said. "We're already behind getting ready for the first snow." Saying that, she went back into the cave. Brigid followed her in and helped her pack up their things while Sven continued to play with his new pet.

* * *

"How many?" her mother asked when they reached the compound, pointing at the smoldering pyre.

"How many what?" Brigid asked, trying to shuffle her mother into the compound.

"How many did you kill?" she asked.

"Um, two," Brigid murmured. "The others were an accident," she said.

"How many others," her mother asked, resisting Brigid's attempts to get her into the compound.

"Three?"

"Five?" her mother said, shaking her head. "Well, hopefully no one comes asking for wergeld."

"They attacked us!" Brigid said, protesting.

"And you used your father's spear," her mother said.

"It's a good spear," Brigid said, not sure what her mother's point was. "And I only killed one of them with it when he tried to kill me."

"It's a spear blessed by the gods," she said, turning and going into the compound. "The clan will say they didn't have a chance against it. Even if you didn't kill all of them with it, it affected your skill in battle."

"What?"

"You killed five raiders," her mother reminded her. "An untrained girl."

"I'm trained!" Brigid grumbled, following her into their cabin.

"To hunt dragons, not fight raiders," her mother said, dropping her bags onto the table. "They will say you had an unfair advantage with the spear."

"So, I should have let them sell us to slavers?" Brigid asked. "And let them get Papa's stash of dragon gold? Instead of fighting, because I have Papa's spear?"

"No." her mother said. "But you need to start thinking about more than just the hunt, if you're going after the dragon that stole your cousin. You need to be prepared for the king and others trying to take credit for your deeds."

"You mean the glory," Brigid said. "That isn't important."

"It is important, Brigid," her mother said. "Unless you don't want to be more than a soldier's or hunter's wife. You know why your father couldn't sponsor you as his apprentice."

"Both of you told me that," Brigid said, sullenly. "No matter how good of a dragon hunter I am, I'm still not a man."

"If you bring back the princess alive and the head of the dragon who stole her, they'll be forced to admit you are a dragon hunter and not just the daughter of one," her mother said. "But you can't use any tricks, or blessed weapons like the spear until you've proven yourself to them. Now let me see your bruises," she said taking a jar of ointment out of a cupboard.

Shaking her head, Brigid stood up and walked out into the compound yard, not responding to her mother's request. She didn't need to be poked and prodded and covered in the foul smelling stuff, just for a bruise or two.

She understood what her mother was saying, but she wasn't happy about it. Her father had been the best dragon hunter in the kingdom and he'd taught her everything he knew. If he thought she had a chance against a dragon, so should the king and his advisors.

She didn't think the spear had anything to do with her luck against the raiders but she really wanted to take it with her on the dragon hunt. Without it she was going to have to rely more on her cleverness than her skill with her dragon hunting tools.

Grumbling, Brigid strode out of the compound to check on the pyre. It was a smoldering pile of ash and coals by this point. As soon as it had cooled off she would scatter the ashes in the swamp. If any of the raiders ghosts were still around, they could haunt that and not the compound. And then she would talk to her mother about hunting for the princess.

It would require a trip back to the fort, since that was were she disappeared from and the dragon signs were, but she needed to get back down to that oak tree and get her pack first. It'd been hidden up in that tree for almost a week, but they really needed the things in it.

* * *

"More tomorrow?" Rachel asked.

"Yes," Brittany said. "We're just getting started."

"Brigid was badass," Santana said, hopping to her feet.

"You're biased," Brittany said, leaning over to give her a kiss. "Tomorrow, ladies, and Kurt," she said, letting Santana pull her to her feet.


	4. Here be no dragons!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid doesn't find any dragons, or the Princess. But she does find an elf instead.

Brittany licked her sticky fingers after finishing her last marshmallow. "Where were we?" she said, looking around at the waiting faces of the others.

"Brigid is going dragon hunting," Santana said.

"Finally," someone she could barely hear, and couldn't identify over the sounds of everyone settling down for the story, said.

"Oh, right," Brittany said. "And she meets some elves." Nodding to herself, Brittan took a long slow breath and started.

* * *

Brigid's mother wasn't happy about losing the contents of her pack, but she understood why it had been left behind and why there wasn't any time for Brigid to fetch it, if she was going to look for the princess. Every day the search was delayed, the more likely it was that the princess was dead, and it had been ten days since she'd disappeared. So the pack would have to wait.

If they were lucky, it would still be good once the princess was found. If not, they would have to dig into their dwindling supply of gold from the last hunt Brigid's father had returned from to buy replacements.

"You'll have to move quickly," her mother said, rolling out one of her father's large maps of the northern province. "If she's still alive she'll be weak from a lack of food. Dragons don't usually worry about feeding their captives."

"Do you think I'll have any chance of finding her?" Brigid asked.

"You said this dragon was stealing sheep?"

"Yes," Brigid said.

"Then there's really only one place it could have come from," she said, pointing to a mountain range two days journey from the fort. "There's a dragon nest here. The last time your father checked there, it was empty but the only other nest within a flight of the fort is north of here and that is too far for most dragons to travel just for food."

"And if she isn't there?" Brigid asked. "Then what do I do?"

"I want you to come home," Brigid's mother told her. "But I can't make you, so I expect you to do the right thing."

"The right thing?" Brigid said.

"Yes," she said. "You'll know it when it happens."

Brigid nodded like she understood what her mother was saying but she really had no idea. It sounded like one of those vague explanations the priests liked to give when bad things happened.

Clearing off the small table next to the cabin door, Brigid started to lay out the tools and weapons she needed to take.

Several of the long, thin ropes she liked so much and several much shorter ones. A small sturdy hook for climbing, and several small slivers of wood that could be shoved into cracks in rocks to improve her footing. Two woolen shirts and hose and a warm cloak that folded up into a small bundle.

For food she packed several days of dried slivers of meat and fruit. She would have to forage along the way. There was no easy way to carry all the food she and the princess would need in the mountains. A couple fishhooks and line would help with that. Her favorite steel and flint was also necessary.

Leaving the spear behind, Brigid knew, meant her only weapons would be a staff, and several knives. She couldn't take the bow, her mother might need it. But she did have a sling, and rocks were easy to find.

"What do I do when I find her," Brigid asked. "She's not going to know me. And where do I take her? To the fort? Her father? Here?"

"Take her home to the palace," her mother said. "And try to keep it a secret. You don't want anyone claiming your glory, just because they got to the king first."

"Yes," Brigid said, nodding in agreement.

"Make sure everything is securely packed," her mother said. "You need to make an early start in the morning."

* * *

Brigid arrived at the fort early in the morning, just after sunrise. Before going up to the gate, she circled around the fort several times, each rotation further out from the fort, trying to get some sense of the creature she was going to hunt. There'd been new attacks in the time she'd been gone. She counted at least ten more charred sections of grass. But no bones or dragon droppings. Whatever was grabbing the sheep was taking them away to be eaten elsewhere.

She carefully marked down each burn on a small piece of smooth leather, making sure to orient them in relation to the fort and each other. She'd use it later to try to figure out which direction the beasts had come from. From the size of the burns she suspected there were at least three. Nodding to herself, Brigid rolled up the small map and stuck it back into her pack.

She didn't recognize the guard at the gate, but after a quick look at her possessions he let her into the fort. Two stops and she would be ready to go.

She needed to talk to Lars, but had no idea where to find him. He'd just been there at the gate the last time she came to the fort. She wasn't sure she trusted him completely, there were only two people she did, her mother and father. But he was a friend of her father and would, she hoped, give her honest advice. The gate guard had suggested he'd be at Old Meg's tavern.

The fort had a subdued feeling to it. Like everyone in it was waiting for more bad news. Brigid drew curious looks as she traipsed through the market but no one tried to stop her. She hoped they hadn't found the princess yet, or at least found what was left of her.

Pushing past some tradesmen just outside of the tavern, Brigid ducked down and entered the stifling building. She much preferred the outdoors, even if it was cold out. Being in a room packed with a lot of people, mostly men, made her very uncomfortable. Looking around, she spotted Lars near the fire, at a table with several others dressed like troopers. Bracing herself, she started pushing her way through to him.

His eyes looked bloodshot in the dim light. She didn't want to think about what was in the bowl in front of him. From the smell it was either a great delicacy or something that should have been thrown away days ago.

"Lars!" she shouted above the din, when he didn't seem to see her standing at his table.

"Brigid, what brings you here?" he asked, giving her a faint smile.

"I need to talk with you," she said.

"About?" he asked. She shrugged and waved towards the door to indicate the need to talk elsewhere. He nodded. "Can I get you something to eat?" he asked, tapping his bowl.

Scrunching up her nose, Brigid shook her head no.

* * *

Brigid waited for him outside. Out in the fresher air.

"I wasn't expecting you back so soon," Lars said, walking towards the parade ground, waiving at her to follow him.

"I wasn't either," she said. "Has anyone gone after the princess yet?" she asked him.

"There was a group that left right after you did but they should be back any day now," Lars told her. "They didn't look like they knew what they were getting into."

"Was one of them short, wide, with a red beard?" Brigid asked. "And another looked like a scribe? And a rich merchant?"

"Yes," he said giving her a concerned look. "You ran into them?"

"You could say that," Brigid said. "A few of them won't be coming back," she said bluntly but didn't give any more details, figuring that was enough.

"Ah." Lars nodded. "What can I do for you?" he asked after a few minutes of walking.

"What do you know about the Whistling Mountains?" she asked.

"Not the friendliest lands," he said. "Five of us went hunting there, and only two of us came back. If that's where you're going, the dragon is the least of your worries."

"What else is up there?" she asked.

"A clan of dark elves lives at the very edge. You'll need something to pay for passage," he said. "Or you'll have to try and sneak through. But if they catch you, they'll treat you harshly. If there are any dragons up there they probably belong to the elves."

"What else?"

"Rock trolls," he said. "And they have a taste for human flesh."

Brigid shuddered. "Any sign of the princess?"

"Her boots were found a day's journey from here," he said. "They looked like they'd been dropped from a great distance."

"Huh," she muttered. "Dragons don't usually make their victims take off their boots."

"You don't think the dragon took her?" Lars said, frowning.

"Not yet. Maybe she ran away or was kidnapped?" Brigid suggested.

"The boots?"

"If someone took away her boots, she wouldn't be able to run away. Correct?"

"Not easily," Lars said.

Brigid nodded. "I'm not sure what really happened to her," she said, "but I don't believe it was dragons. It might be someone riding on dragons but we won't know until someone rescues her."

"You?" he asked.

"If I run into her I'll bring her back," she said, trying not to be too obvious about her plans. The last thing she needed was another bunch of men following her to steal the glory and the gold.

"Just make sure you come back," he said. "I don't want to be the one who explains to your father that I let you travel into the mountains on your own."

"Let me?" she growled.

Lars laughed and winked at her. She knew he still saw the little girl he'd first met and always would, no matter how tall or strong she got. She didn't mind, too much. He, at least, wouldn't try to stop her from going on an adventure like this.

"When are you off?" he asked.

"I have to see Eygonson and then I'm off."

"Make sure to stop in and see me when you get back," he said.

She nodded before leaving him behind.

* * *

The front of the smith shop was empty so Brigid went around to the back where the forge was.

"You've come for the knife," he said, putting down his hammer when she stepped into his smithy.

"Yes," she said, reaching into her pack for the small stash of dragon gold to cover his price for the knife.

"Keep your money," he said. "Pay me when you get back. And if you bring the princess back alive it's yours free."

"You can't do that," Brigid said.

"I just did," he told her, winking.

"But there's a reward for bringing the princess back," Brigid said.

"And we both know it'll be impossible to get the king to pay that."

"Yes, but that's not your problem to fix," Brigid protested. "If the king won't pay it's his honor that is being shamed."

"You shall still take it," he said. "When you come back, I'll be able to sell many cheap copies of that knife to all of the pretend dragon hunters, who won't know the difference between your Damascus steel blade, and the Saxon steel of theirs."

Brigid laughed at the old man. "Okay, I wouldn't want to ruin your business plans. I'll take it."

* * *

From the marks of the burns on her map showing the directions the dragons approached the fort, Brigid decided that the dragons hadn't come directly from the mountains. But the princess's boots were not found in the same direction, which was puzzling.

Nodding to herself, Brigid decided to follow the dragons. If the dragons had dropped her boots, at some point they had turned but first she needed to find out when and where they picked up the princess.

It took her half a day to reach the edge of the plain, and the end of the easy trail. Just inside the woods, she found a small camp. The weather had removed any visible signs of the inhabitants but from the size of the fire there couldn't have been that many, even smaller than the raiding party she'd dealt with up at the compound.

She did find something odd, though. Tucked under one of the logs arrayed around the fire-pit was a small woolen glove, for a hand much smaller than her own. Tucking it into her pack, she followed the faint trail into the woods.

* * *

Around dusk, Brigid came to a large clearing deep within the woods. There wasn't much to see but she could smell the faint odor of blood. Large quantities had been spilled in the clearing, around a large pole standing near the middle of the clearing. She wasn't sure what it was for, though it look vaguely like someone had set up a trap for a large animal.

She didn't want to stay in the clearing, who knew what would be drawn by the smell. But it would be hard to find any signs of whatever beast had been drawn to the clearing in the dark.

Looking around, Brigid found a large tree several paces into the forest. The lowest branches were above where most creatures, except possibly dragons, could reach. Reaching into her pack, Brigid pulled out one of her long ropes. Attaching a weight to one end, she swung it up into the tree, wrapping it around a high branch. Carefully pulling on it, she used it to pull herself up into the tree.

* * *

Eating a dried apple, Brigid looked down at the clearing from her tree. From the burn marks, someone had used something to attract one of the marauding dragon to the clearing. She had a sickening feeling that she knew what they'd used. She couldn't tell why they'd wanted them, dragons were notoriously uncooperative beasts. But she suspected that the King wasn't going to get back so much as the finger bones of his daughter. She wasn't sure why the princess's boots had ended up so far from the clearing but decided it wasn't worth thinking about.

Not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, Brigid decided to continue on to the mountains. She could still do something about the dragons that were eating the fort's sheep. There wouldn't be a reward but finding dragon gold was still possible. She'd have to bury it and wait for the dragon curse to wear off so the sooner she got there the better.

* * *

It took her another three days of fighting trees and low vegetation before Brigid reached the foothills of the Whistling Mountains. She didn't quite believe Lars' tales of dark elves until now, her father having never mentioned them in his tales, but she didn't have anything to bribe them with anyway.

So, taking a deep breath, she cautiously stepped out onto the road from the forest path she'd been following all morning. It wasn't an ordinary road. It was wider than she was tall and completely paved in polished stone that sparkled. She just hoped the elves were friendlier than the tales said.

* * *

She'd been walking along the road, towards the mountains for a while, when she felt it. She didn't know how to describe it but it was like the feeling just before a storm arrived, the slow wind almost pushing her back. Stopping to rest, she sat down on a large stone on the side of the road. Grabbing her flask, she carefully sipped from her remaining supply of water.

Hearing a noise, like hooves against metal, Brigid looked up, almost jumping up in surprise. Standing in front of her was a tall, dark creature that resembled a horse, though not completely. Instead of hooves it had claws, and its teeth looked like they could bite her in half. Sitting astride it was a tall creature with golden hair, resembling a person the way a dire wolf resembled a dog, dressed for battle in white and green armor that seemed to glow.

Jumping to her feet, Brigid bowed nervously to the creature.

"Why are you here," it asked, voice echoing like the wind off the mountains in a blizzard.

"A dragon has been stealing sheep from the fort," Brigid said. "It needs to be dealt with before it starts stealing small children." She decided not to mention the missing, probably dead, princess to the creature.

"Something has been abusing our dragon-kin," the creature said. "They do not eat sheep. Or children."

Brigid shook her head. "I only know what I've seen," she said. "Sheep are missing and there are signs of dragon."

The elf, since that was only what it could be Brigid decided, looked at her, gazing deep into her eyes. A chill ran through Brigid's bones.

* * *

She tried to keep her face blank. This was not like facing a dragon, or even those raiders. There was something about this elf that frightened her in a way she couldn't define.

"You shall come with me," it said, in its echoing voice.

Brigid reluctantly nodded, shivering when the creature whistled. Before she could pick up her pack, another of the horse-like creatures appeared on the road, stopping in front of her. Looking at it and then back at the elf, she wasn't really surprised when it motioned for her to climb onto the creature. Quickly throwing her pack over her shoulders, Brigid approached the creature.

She'd never ridden a horse but she'd seen how the troopers at the fort mounted them. This creature was different. It knelt down on its front legs so she could get on. Its skin was smooth, like well-worn leather, and warm like something that had lain out in the sun all morning. When it stood, she found herself perched high above the ground.

Giving her one last look, the elf turned and rode back down the road, towards the mountains. Brigid's mount followed without a sound.

* * *

She lost track of time as they rode. The sun didn't seem to move in the sky but time passed. She could tell because she grew thirsty as they rode. As steady as the creature was, moving fluidly beneath her, Brigid didn't want to risk losing her flask by taking it out of her pack.

She watched her guide, or possibly guard, as they rode. Its armor seemed to be molded to her. It looked hard, like the shell of a beetle, but seemed very flexible. Brigid wondered if it was meant for battles with creatures only elves fought or with men or elves.

Her father had shown her the armor he was designing for facing dragons. It had been very different from what the troopers wore, flexible in different places since it was designed to protect against heat and the acid of dragons blood, not arrows or blades. He'd never gotten around to making armor for her to wear and the only set had gone south on his last quest, so she'd never seen how effective it was.

She found it fascinating how the elf's armor flexed as it rode but still looked like a hard shell. Brigid didn't recognize any weapons among the things it carried but knew they had to be there.

They approached a large mound, stopping in front of a large black gate that glinted in the sun. Brigid followed her guard, getting down from the creature, jumping back when it snapped at her when her foot slipped and banged against its side.

Brigid didn't remember many of the tales told about the dark elves. She knew that people who met them came back changed so she really didn't want to enter one of their mounds. But she wasn't sure if she even had a choice. The time to run would have been when she first met the elf at the road.

"You will not be harmed," her guide said, as if reading her mind. "But do not eat or drink anything inside if you wish to leave unchanged."

Gulping, Brigid nodded, before following.

* * *

Brigid tried to count her steps as they traveled deep within the mound but she was finding it difficult to concentrate. All she could hear was the faint sound of her own feet. Her companion was silent, not appearing to even breath as they walked.

* * *

It had been a mild day outside, feeling like very early fall, when they'd entered the mound. The deeper they went, the warmer it got, until Brigid was sweating under her leather overcoat, linen blouse and leggings while carrying her pack.

Finally, they entered a large room. There were guards at the door, dressed in armor like her companion but in different colors, ignoring them. A number of strange creatures she didn't recognize milled about the room, though they all seemed to keep back from several chairs set on a high platform at the front of the room.

Brigid's companion silently directed her to stand in front of the platform. As they reached it the sound of voices died away.

"Bow," her companion said, while following its own command.

When Brigid looked up, the platform was no longer empty. Two elves now occupied the high backed chairs, one barely clothed female and one male. The female elf gave her a piecing look before addressing her companion in a musical language Brigid didn't recognize. Her companion answered loudly, in an angry tone. Brigid shivered at the implicit violence in whatever they were saying.

Looking bored, the male elf on the platform briefly spoke. Brigid wasn't sure what he said but the other two glared at him before her guard replied with even fewer words.

The female elf frowned before addressing her.

"A witch has captured two of the dragon kin. You shall release them from their bondage," the elf said imperiously.

"Release them?" Brigid asked, her voice cracking from disuse.

Her guard explained. "The witch has enslaved them. The only way to release them is to kill them."

"Kill them?" Brigid asked in surprise. "Why can't you do that?"

"We have sworn oaths to never hurt our dragon kin," the female elf said. "You will do this."

"What do I get for doing this?" Brigid asked.

"You get to live," the male elf said, in a very bored sounding voice.

The female elf scowled at him. "For releasing our dragon kin from the witch's grasp, you may keep her greatest treasure. If you do not do so, we shall execute you for trespassing on our realm."

Brigid winced. "How do I find these dragons and the witch?" she asked.

"I shall guide you to them," said her guard unhappily.

"I don't know anything about fighting witches," Brigid protested.

"Apolia shall advise you," the female elf said, waving at her guide. "And this shall be yours once you are outside. It will help you against the witch." She tossed a small ball at her elven guide.

Brigid nodded. When her guide and the guard who'd silently followed them into the chamber bowed she mirrored their actions before following them out of the chamber without looking back.

After another long walk they exited the mound, returning to the outside. To Brigid it looked like no time had passed while they were in the mound.

"We must hurry," her companion said, whistling for their mounts "If we do not, we shall be trapped here."

Brigid nodded, suspecting she'd already escaped a horrible fate. Mounting her horse beast, she hung on as it raced off after her guide.

They'd traveled for several leagues when her guide halted.

"We shall stop here for the night," her guide told Brigid, before getting down from the horse beast. Taking a pinch of dust from a small pouch, her guide blew it into the air, which briefly shimmered. When the shimmer was gone, it was replaced by a small, fragile looking tent. Brigid gaped at the sight. This was the first real magic she'd ever seen.

Ignoring her, her guide entered the tent, exiting a few moments later without any armor, dressed in a semi-transparent shift. Brigid tried not to stare. Although she wasn't a Christian with their disapproval of nakedness, she rarely wore so little herself. And, until this point, her companion could have been either male or female. Her almost see-through clothing made it very clear.

"You can make yourself comfortable," she said.

"Sure," Brigid said faintly. "Where do I sleep?"

"The tent is large enough for both of us," she said.

Brigid frowned. It looked barely large enough to fit one of them. "Okay," she mumbled. "Apolia?"

The elf grimaced. "My name is Wystalia," she said. "I am Apolia of this realm."

"What's an Apolia," Brigid asked, her original question momentarily forgotten.

Wystalia frowned. "I am not sure there is a word for it in your language," she said. "I guard the honor of the realm and am captain of the royal guard."

"We have a Captain of the King's Guard," she said. "The other? I've heard that some of the Christian kingdoms have champions but we don't. The King is supposed to be our champion."

"Ah," she said, going over to her horse beast.

"When will we reach the dragon den?" Brigid asked, watching her digging around in a small pouch.

"You must deal with the witch first," Wystalia told her. "The dragon-kin are invulnerable until you kill her."

"Do the dragons need to be killed then?" Brigid asked curiously. "Won't they go back to being ordinary mountain dragons once she's dead?"

"No," the elf told her. "The witch destroyed their connection to the land's taw. They are just wild, mindless beast."

"Land's taw?" Brigid asked, watching the elf warrior, though she didn't look very warrior-like at the moment, quickly build a small fire and hang a small pot over it, full of water she'd poured from a large flask she'd produced seemingly out of thin air.

"Its spirit?" she said, pausing to sprinkle something into the boiling water. "The connection it has to the All."

"Oh," Brigid said. "Do you have gods?" she asked. "Or do you believe in the Christian's One God?"

Wystalia snorted. "Gods are a human weakness," she said.

"So Thor and Odin and the Carpenter don't exist?" Brigid asked, curious.

"That I didn't say," the elf told her. "Thor and Odin have been seen in the human lands. They have power, of a sort, but we don't worship them in this realm. I am not aware of any carpenter claiming power."

Brigid frowned at the ambiguous answer. "What are you making?" she asked instead of continuing that line of questioning. She didn't really want to talk about the gods now that her curiosity was filled.

"Porridge," Wystalia told her. "You'll need it."

"Need it? Why?" Brigid pointed at her pack. "I have my own food, if you want to share."

"I do not eat human prepared food," Wystalia told her firmly. "You'll need it after you drink this." She held up the small object she'd gotten from the female elf in the mound.

"What is that?" Brigid asked.

"A potion that will enable you to defeat the witch," Wystalia said, handing it to her.

"What does it do?" Brigid asked, holding it nervously.

"It gives you some of the abilities of an elf," Wystalia told her. "Better sight, and hearing, and strength. And it will protect you from some of her magic."

"That doesn't sound bad," Brigid murmured, turning it over in her hands.

"It won't make you invulnerable," Wystalia warned her. "It might have unexpected side-effects."

"How long does it last?" Brigid asked, suspecting the elves wouldn't give something like that to a lower creature such as herself if it were permanent.

"It has been known to last for a full moon," she said. "You are human, so it could be less."

"But long enough to reach the witch and the dragons?" Brigid asked.

"Of course," Wystalia told her.

"How much do I drink?" she asked, pausing before pulling out the stopper.

"All of it, of course," Wystalia told her.

"Of course," Brigid muttered, completing the motion. She sniffed it cautiously, ignoring the musical snort of amusement from the elf. Bracing herself, she poured the contents into her mouth and swallowed it quickly, gasping as it burned its way down her throat.

"Here," the elf said, handing her a bowl of the spicy smelling porridge.

Nodding, Brigid took the bowl, not bothering to speak around the fire that seemed to be blazing its way through her. Before realizing it, she'd downed the entire bowl and was being handed another full bowl of porridge by the elf.

* * *

After the third bowl, things became hazy. She'd only ever felt something like this once before, the time she'd snuck a small flask of Thor's prized mead and had drunk the whole thing. "I think I'm drunk," she said, looking hazily down at her bowl.

"No, but the porridge has been describe at having that effect on humans," the elf said.

"Then why did you give it to me?" Brigid said. "It'll make me sick and then I won't be able to beat the witch."

"You'll be better in the morning," Wystalia said. "The porridge will help with the effects of the potion."

"Effects?" Brigid asked, her own voice seeming to echo.

"It can be painful," the elf said. "The porridge helps with the pain and provides the nourishment you need. The potion requires a lot of energy.

"Now you tell me?" Brigid asked, looking up at her. She wondered when she'd sat down.

* * *

The sound of birds, celebrating the rising sun, was drowned out by the faint sound of breathing. Brigid lay there as she slowly awoke, wrapped in something warm and soft. Opening her eyes, all she could see was blonde hair. Looking down, she tried not to jump up in surprise. She was lying on a soft surface, the arms of her tall elf guide wrapped around her, and they were both naked. It was an unexpected feeling. The soft skin of the elf against her hairier skin.

She wondered what had happened to her clothes. She didn't think that was what she'd had in mind when the elf had said they would share the tent. Now that she was an adult, the only time she removed them was to bathe or swim in the summer, certainly not to sleep. And, she hadn't slept with another person since she was ten summers old, before her brother was born, keeping her mother company when her father was on long hunts.

"Are all humans so hairy?" Wystalia asked her, the suddenness of her voice startling Brigid. But not as startling as the surprise she felt at a hand running down one of her legs.

"Maybe?" Brigid said. Wondering when her skin had become so sensitive, imagining she could feel Wystalia's fingers as they brushed every hair. She couldn't stop herself from reacting to the unexpected feeling. As she breathed in, Brigid became aware of a new smell. Leaning forward slightly, she sniffed the elf. "You smell different," she said. "Spicy."

"I have not changed," Wystalia said.

"I couldn't smell you before," Brigid said. "And everything tingles."

"That is the potion," the elf told her. "Your senses are sharper."

"It's going to hurt more if I get dragon burns," Brigid said, realizing what that meant.

"Possibly," Wystalia told her. "Think of it as incentive to move quickly."

"That's helpful," Brigid grumbled.

"All of my advice is," the elf said smugly.

"Elves don't understand sarcasm," Brigid said, "do they."

"We understand it," Wystalia said, "but see no need for it." Releasing her hold on Brigid, she slipped out of the tent.

"Where are you going?" Brigid asked at the sudden chill as she lost contact with the elf.

"The sun is up. We need to break camp if you are to face the witch today."

* * *

"I thought she was looking for the princess," Quinn said. "What's this thing with the elf bitch?"

"Quinn! Language!" Rachel said.

"But if she rescues the princess, tradition implies certain things," Quinn said. "Things will get messy if things happen with the elf."

"You weren't paying attention yesterday, were you Juno," Santana said, sneering at her. "She doesn't want the princess. She plans to take the princess, or what's left of her, home and then go back to her life."

"Santana, hush," Brittany said, poking her girlfriend.

Sorry," Santana said, sitting back against the log and grumbling under her breath.

"I'm not telling one of those traditional stories about the knight killing the dragon and marrying the princess," Brittany said. "This is what really happened, as Brigid saw and felt it. Do you want me to continue tonight?"

"Yes!" Several of them said loudly.


	5. A Witch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid deals with an evil witch. She's not Glinda or any of those fluffy nature loving Wiccans. Don't feel sorry for her, she's evil.

Brittany paused for a moment to take a drink from her water bottle. "Remember, this is an evil witch, like from Hansel and Gretel. Not like our witch." She waved at Willow on the other side of the bonfire.

"We met Hansel and Gretel," Buffy said. "The witch was probably innocent. And that's a story for another time," she added when Santana glared at her. "Sorry. Please continue."

Brittany nodded, but otherwise ignored the interruption and continued.

* * *

As they traveled deeper into the mountain range, Brigid wondered why the elf kept giving her such speculative looks, almost as if she were trying to measure her against something. It was more than slightly unnerving. But she was too busy adjusting to the changes made by the potion to ask her about it.

Brigid didn't feel any stronger than before drinking the potion, but her pack seemed much lighter. And everything seemed so bright! It was like standing outside on a sunny day, but the sun wasn't out. In fact, it was very cloudy, all signs pointing to rain. And she could hear the leaves and grass swaying in the very faint breeze. On top of that, she would still get the occasional spicy whiff of her guide, several lengths ahead. It was very distracting, in a semi-pleasant way.

She had to work extra hard to focus on her surroundings. Especially when the spicy odor of Wystalia would cause some memory of the night before to pop into her head. The memories, or what she assumed were memories, were confusing. The little bits she remembered made no sense. In all of her sixteen summers she'd never had the urge to lick another person, that she could remember. Or to cuddle with a female, non-family member.

Oh, she knew all about sex and how to be careful, even if she'd never wanted to do it with any of the men or boys she'd met. Her mother had made sure of that once she started hunting on her own, and traveling down to the fort. And when she was fourteen summers, she'd once accidentally surprised two of the tavern wenches at Old Mel's doing things she'd thought only men and women did together, until then. That had been a revelation of sorts but nothing she'd been interested in herself.

But, this was something different. The only way to describe her behavior, if her few memories were correct, was like a happy puppy. Licking and biting and cuddling. But not what she thought of as sex.

She decided to forget it for now, and save being embarrassed for her lack of control around the elf for when she got home. If her odd behavior was caused by the potion it wasn't going to ever happen again. If there was something about her elf guide, that would end soon also, after the dragons were dead and they parted. If it was something she wanted to explore later, she was sure she could find someone, like one of those tavern wenches, to help her out in the future. But there was no hurry.

* * *

She couldn't see the sun, but the cloudy sky seemed to glow a little brighter directly overhead. It had just started to sprinkle and Brigid shivered.

"We'll stop here," Wystalia said, guiding her through a rough opening along the trail that she wouldn't have seen on her own. It led to a small, sheltered area underneath a large overhang, out of the rain. Following her example, Brigid slid off of her horse-beast which immediately shook itself, showering her with drops of water, to Wystalia's amusement.

Brigid glared at her. "You could have warned me," she said, trying to shake off the wetness; her own and now that of her beast.

"They are animals," she said, raising one of her faint eyebrows. "You should have expected that behavior."

Brigid sighed. "Why did we stop?" she asked, taking off her pack.

"The nag mora can go all day, but you looked like a brief break and a meal would be helpful," Wystalia said.

"Nag mora?" Brigid echoed, turning to look at the horse beasts. She hadn't realized they had a name, though it wasn't one she'd ever heard before. "What do they eat?" she asked, curious.

"The hearts of human virgins," Wystalia said, laughing at Brigid's frightened expression. "Don't worry, you have nothing to fear," she added.

"Why?" Brigid asked nervously, cautiously backing away from the creatures.

"They prefer the hearts of witches," she said, "not powerless girls."

"Are witches virgins?" Brigid asked, never having heard of where witches came from. All of the stories just seemed to assume they were already witches.

"Where do you think they get their power from?" Wystalia said. "Or why they never have male servants?"

Brigid shrugged. "I've never thought about witches," she said. "I hunt other things."

"You've never hunted dragon kin before," Wystalia said.

"I've been trained to," Brigid protested. "My father was a famous dragon hunter."

"He hunted wyrms," Wystalia told her, "not true dragon kin."

"What's the difference?" Brigid asked.

"Wyrms are just echoes of the dragon kin," she said. "They live in dark caves with the gold they've stollen. I am not saying they are easy to kill," she added before Brigid could protest. "A human defeating a wyrm is rare, but not impossible."

"How are they different from your dragon kin then?" Brigid asked, concerned that she might be facing something much more dangerous than she'd thought.

"The dragon kin are exactly what they are, kin to the elves," Wystalia said. "When we die we are given the choice to become one with the All or to become dragon kin. And when the dragon kin die they can become one of us, though few do."

"Oh," Brigid said, surprised. "So, you need me because it would be kin slaying."

"Yes. We are not humans," she said, unnecessarily reminding Brigid. "We do not slaughter kin, no matter what they have done."

"We don't slaughter kin either," Brigid protested.

"Are not all humans kin?" Wystalia asked.

"Yes..." Brigid said.

"Do not humans kill other humans?"

"Yes," Brigid said softly, the image of the red bearded man flashing through her mind.

"You have killed kin," Wystalia stated distastefully, though she didn't appear surprised. Brigid wondered if she already knew what she'd done to the raiders who'd attacked the compound.

"I was defending my home, my family," Brigid said weakly.

"The reason does not matter. It is still kin-slaying," Wystalia said. "Elven kin are few. Killing them would make us like you."

"I see," Brigid said, though she didn't really. She didn't like this feeling, that Wystalia thought less of her for being human.

"We must eat," Wystalia said. "A half day's travel left to do. There is a place we can camp near the witch where she cannot see us. You will fight her in the morning."

Brigid nodded, taking the small bread and flask Wystalia held out to her. Biting into the bread, she was surprised to find it was warm and contained something like melted cheese, with a very strong flavor. "What is this?" she asked before taking another bite. She hadn't realized she was so hungry, swallowing the last of it before Wystalia could answer her.

"It has no name," she said. "It is travel bread with a filling. Sometimes cheese, other times something else like fish or sea grass."

"It was delicious," Brigid said softly.

"I do not recommend eating it once the potion wears off," Wystalia told her.

"It's poisonous?" Brigid asked faintly.

"Only for humans," she said with a slight smile.

"I'm human," Brigid said.

"Not at this time," Wystalia told her. "You drank the potion. You are somewhere between elf and human, until it wears off."

"Oh," Brigid said. "Is that why I'm safe from the nag mora?"

"Partly," she said, swinging herself up on to her beast. "Come, it's time to go!"

Swinging her pack over one shoulder, Brigid climbed back onto her own temperamental beast and followed her back out onto the trail, mulling over her words.

* * *

They stopped again just before sunset to make camp. It was a sheltered clearing, similar to the one where they'd made their mid-day stop, but a little larger.

The tent went up quickly, in a flash like the night before. This time, though, Wystalia didn't feed Brigid any elven porridge or more of the potion after removing her armor. After a quick meal of more of the filled travel bread, Brigid nervously chewed on the end of her long, braided hair, and quietly watched Wystalia read from a scroll, across the small fire. She wasn't really tired, but she wasn't sure how to prepare for meeting the witch. None of her weapons would be any use against magic, if it was anything like the little she'd seen so far.

"What's wrong?" Wystalia asked.

"How do I fight this witch?" Brigid asked.

"The same way you fight anyone else," she said, rolling up her scroll and putting it away in her pack.

"I don't know how to fight magic," Brigid said.

"Duck," Wystalia said.

"Duck?"

"This is a human witch," Wystalia said. "Her magic takes time. She'll throw things at you."

"Things like what?" Brigid asked.

"Potions, magic ropes to trip you up, poisoned knives, things like that," she said. "You should have no problem."

"Why haven't you killed her already if it's so easy," Brigid asked.

"She's tied the dragon kin to her. If one of us killed the witch we could kill the dragon kin," she said. "Or they might try to kill us."

"They would attack you if you attack the witch?" Brigid asked. There seemed to be a lot of rules and conditions to how the witch was dealt with.

"Yes," Wystalia said.

"But it's not a problem if I kill her?" Brigit said. "What if she tells the dragon kin to kill me?"

"You defend yourself," Wystalia said, as if it was obvious.

"I defend myself. Of course," Brigid muttered. Shaking her head, she pulled over her pack and took out her weapons. If the witch could send the dragons at her, she needed to be ready, even if Wystalia claimed dragons were not the same as the things she'd been trained to fight.

She hadn't brought a spear, but she did have one of her father's silver tipped hook blades. She just needed a long pole to attach it to. Which she didn't have and hadn't been able to cut as she'd planned. Grimacing, she put it aside.

"How close are we to the witch?" Brigid asked Wystalia.

"Her castle is just over that ridge," she said, pointing.

"Castle?" Brigid said. "You didn't say she had a castle," she said, trying to picture what kind of castle a witch would have. "Can I see it?"

"Tomorrow," Wystalia said.

"Why not now?" Brigid asked. This felt like fighting the raiders, except she'd known more about them.

"She can't see us here. We're shielded from her magic," Wystalia said. "Down there, she'll see us coming."

"Why don't we go now?" Brigid asked, as she carefully tested the blade of her new knife.

"The dragon kin sleep until the sun is directly overhead. If we walked up to her castle right now they would be waiting for us."

"That's an important bit of information," Brigid said. Wystalia shrugged, watching her sharpen another of her knives. Brigid was rather proud of her skills with the pair of throwing knives her father had given her when she'd turned ten summers.

"We should get some sleep," she told Brigid, watching her carefully wrap up her knives.

"There's not enough room in there for both of us," Brigid said.

"There was plenty of room last night," Wystalia said.

"I don't remember last night," Brigid said, hoping her nervousness wasn't obvious.

"If you say so," she said, giving Brigid what she assumed was the elf version of a smirk. Standing up, she removed the rest of her clothes, placing them just inside the entrance to the tent before sliding in herself.

The casualness of the elf's actions once again startled Brigid.

"No clothes," Wystalia said, sticking her head out of the tent.

"What?" Brigid sputtered.

"The tent won't protect us from the witch's magic if you bring any human clothes into the tent," she told Brigid.

"You said she couldn't see us here," Brigid said. "I can stay out here."

"She can't see us from the castle," Wystalia corrected her. "It's still possible for her or the dragon kin to find us if they fly over us, if you don't get in the tent."

"You..." Brigid didn't know what to say. She couldn't accuse the elf of lying without any proof. And getting that proof might get her killed.

"Tent," the elf said firmly. "If it makes it easier I could make you some porridge," she said. "You didn't object last night."

"I don't remember last night," Brigid told her.

"I won't hurt you, if that is what you are afraid of," Wystalia said. "We really don't have time for any games tonight."

"Games?" Brigid asked, wide eyed. "No, don't explain."

"If you say so," Wystalia said.

"I do," Brigid muttered, standing. Putting her weapons back in her pack, and putting it in a place she could easily reach from the tent, she started removing her clothes, shivering as the cool air hit her bare skin. She was moving a lot faster by the time all of her clothes were in a small bundle at her feet and didn't waste any time entering the cramped tent. "You couldn't get a larger tent," she muttered, trying to make herself comfortable on her back.

"Smaller means less magic to hide it and us from the witch," Wystalia said. "Less magic means easier."

"What about the nag mora?" Brigid asked, suddenly realizing she'd forgotten about them.

"Her magic won't see them."

"That's useful," Brigid said, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the warmth from the elf lying next to her. And wondering why she left her hair braided when she hadn't the night before.

"Yes."

"What will you be doing while I'm killing the witch?" Brigid asked softly.

"She will likely have other guards and traps, not just the dragon kin," Wystalia said. "You worry about the witch and the dragon kin. I'll worry about them."

Brigid nodded.

* * *

Wystalia's soft voice woke her just before dawn. Crawling out of the tent, she grabbed her clothes and quickly pulled them on in the chilly air.

"Eat," Wystalia said, handing her a warm bowl.

"This isn't that porridge from the other night?" Brigid asked. She really needed her wits about her when facing the witch.

Wystalia shook her head, "Would I do that?" she asked.

"I don't know," Brigid said, cautiously sniffing the bowl. "I don't understand most of the things you've done so far."

"Humans!" Wystalia said in exasperation, taking the bowl back and handling her a chunk of warm bread instead. "Eat," she said before quickly gobbling down the porridge herself, ignoring Brigid's glare.

* * *

The castle wasn't anything like Brigid expected. She'd been thinking of something like the fort, but bigger. From the ridge, the witch's castle was a large tower surrounded by a circular wall.

"How do we get in?" Brigid asked.

"Through the gate," Wystalia said.

"Gate?"

"It's on the other side," Wystalia said.

"And she's just going to let us in?" Brigid asked.

Reaching into her own pack, Wystalia took out two identical caps, decorated with gold and feathers. Handing one to Brigid and putting the other on her head after removing her helmet, she then pulled out two capes similarly decorated, again handing one to Brigid and putting the other on.

"What are these?" Brigid asked.

"She'll think we're messengers from the Queen," Wystalia said.

"She'll never believe it," Brigid said, following Wystalia's example anyway and putting them on. "Why would your queen have a human messenger?"

"To anyone with the sight, like this witch, you'll appear to be an elf, though you are a bit short."

"I'm not short," Brigid protested. "I'm taller than my mother and most of the troopers at the fort."

"You're short for an elf," Wystalia said, dismissively. "Maybe she'll think you are harmless."

"I don't understand elves," Brigid muttered to herself, forgetting that Wystalia could hear her.

"And humans make no sense to elves," Wystalia whispered back.

"I make perfect sense," Brigid grumbled, following Wystalia back down off the ridge to the nag mora.

* * *

The castle gate was at least twice as big as the one at the fort, Brigid decided, looking up at it from her nag mora. Looking over at Wystalia she frowned. She couldn't ask the elf, there was too much of a chance the witch would hear her.

Stepping down from her mount, the elf strode over to the gate and pounded on it. The sound echoed across the small valley. When there was no response, Wystalia pounded again. This time a door opened in the middle of the large gate. Taking this as an invitation, Brigid joined Wystalia and they cautiously entered the castle, leaving the nag mora behind, something Wystalia had warned her would probably happen. Brigid wasn't too concerned. She wasn't a trooper. Fighting on horseback, or in this case beast-back, wasn't something she knew how to do.

The castle smelled of rotting flesh and brimstone, making Brigid nauseous as they walked down the long passage into the castle. There was something else off about the castle. It felt wrong somehow. Brigid had to fight the urge to turn around and run. Sensing that she was having problems, Wystalia squeezed her shoulder briefly.

The passage opened up into a large courtyard covered in crushed, black stone. As they walked towards the tower in the center, small puffs of black dust followed them. Brigid could sense Wystalia's concern, though she wasn't sure what was causing it. Looking at her, all she got in response was a head shake.

Looking back at the tower, she could see a door opening. As they reached it, a skeleton, dressed in the rags that were all that was left of the uniform of one of the King's troopers, stepped out and stood in their way.

"The message," it said in a whispery voice, holding out a gloved hand.

"We must deliver it in person," Wystalia told it.

"The message," it repeated, followed by an echo behind them.

Brigid surreptitiously looked back towards the gate. A half dozen similar skeletons stood between them and the gate. Coughing, she gestured behind them.

"Ah, the welcoming committee," Wystalia said. "Doesn't change anything. The Queen insisted the message be delivered in person." Reaching into a pocket, she flung something at the nearest skeleton at their back.

Looking over her shoulder, Brigid watched it collapse into a pile of bones, covered in a sparkling powder. The remaining skeletons stopped advancing.

The eyeless skeleton in front of the tower door stared through them for a long moment before turning back towards the tower, Brigid and Wystalia following it into the tower.

Brigid stopped counting after the first dozen steps, suspecting the tower went up higher than the numbers she knew to count with. Eventually, they reached a landing next to a small window, the first they'd seen. Looking out, she could see out beyond the castle walls.

The skeleton didn't give them a break but continued upward to another landing where the steps ended. Nodding at Wystalia, Brigid took a slow, deep breath and prepared herself, one of her throwing knives ready, hidden in her sleeve. She would only have one chance to end things quickly.

The chamber at the top of the tower was larger than she'd thought it would be. Its size reminded her of the King's audience hall, the one time she'd seen it. She would have to get a lot closer to the witch seated on the other side on a tall ornate platform, much like the one the elf king and queen had been sitting on, though this one was decorated in skulls and other bones.

"The message," the skeleton said when they reached the center of the chamber.

"We must hand it over ourselves," Wystalia insisted. The skeleton shivered slightly before continuing towards the witch.

"What does your pathetic queen want this time," the witch said, holding out a hand for the message. Placing it in her hand, Wystalia stepped back. Brigid tensed. In a moment her chance would come.

The witch read the scroll quickly, before dropping it on the floor of her chamber. Brigid would have known she was evil from her laugh alone.

"She wants me to free my pets?" the witch laughed again. "My answer is the same as it was last time. No!" she shouted, her voice echoing around the chamber. At her words, the message burst into flame, green smoke briefly obscuring the witch before a strong wind blew it away, revealing her angry visage. "You tried to poison me!" she said, raising an arm.

Before she could complete the gesture, Brigid threw her knife straight at where her heart should be. The witch stumbled for a moment before completing the gesture. Brigid ducked the fireball the witch tossed at her, circling around for another chance to throw her other knife.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Wystalia standing at the door, keeping a crowd of skeleton troopers from entering the chamber. She wondered in passing where the flaming sword Wystalia was using had come from but was too busy dodging the stream of fireballs from the witch to really care. "You never said she had fireballs," she shouted across the chamber at her guide, who laughed.

"You elf bitch," the witch screamed. "I'll use your bones for paste. I'll use your hair to choke the queen. I'll throw you from the tower for my pets to eat. Your descendants will burn in my furnace for eternity."

The witch wasn't very inventive, Brigid decided, ducking behind her throne to avoid another fireball. She'd heard better curses from the tavern wenches at the fort. But her fireballs certainly were distracting, keeping her from getting close enough to use her remaining throwing knife.

The chamber was quickly becoming a mess but Brigid noticed that each fireball was weaker than the last. Occasionally catching a glimpse of her, Brigid noticed that Wystalia seemed to have unlimited energy to deal with the skeletons. As long as she kept the witch from throwing fireballs at her.

Just as Brigid had thought the witch was tiring, she started throwing glass balls at her. Everywhere one of them landed they shattered, leaving behind a smoking wet spot. Brigid decided that getting hit with one of those balls could possibly be worse than getting hit with a fireball.

And then, finally, she saw an opening and threw her knife. And seemed to miss as the witch dashed behind her throne again. It was like playing with her brother. Neither of them could take advantage.

The tower suddenly shook and there were two large roars. Shrieking, the witch raced for an, until now, undamaged corner of the chamber.

"You must kill the witch," Wystalia shouted at her from the door. "The dragon kin are loose."

Brigid raced after the witch, who was shouting in terror as she struggled to open a small chest. "No! No! It can't be true! Not the one! Not the one!" she babbled, trying to insert a key into the chest.

Brigid slammed into her, driving her into the wall with a sickening crunch. The witch dropped the chest and turned on her with a howl. "Mine! Not yours. Mine!" she shrieked. Scrabbling at Brigid's clothes, the witch grabbed her new knife and hysterically started trying to stab her.

Without her magic, the witch was no match for the taller woman. Grabbing the witch's hand holding the knife, Brigid twisted it away. Taking no chances, Brigid hung onto the smelly, grimy creature, stabbing her multiple times until she stopped moving. Wincing from the few cuts that had gotten past her guard, Brigid let go of the witch and stepped back, bumping into Wystalia as she watched the witch crumple to the ground.

"You must finish her," Wystalia told her.

"She'd dead," Brigid said, feeling like she'd just run from the fort to the compound without stopping.

"She's a witch," Wystalia said. "You need to remove her head and burn her, and scatter her ashes in running water. Or she might come back."

"Really?" Brigid asked, appalled. Killing dragons, wyrms she corrected herself, seemed so much simpler. They died, they crumbled into sludge and you buried their treasure for ten summers until the curse wore off. Easy.

"Yes," Wystalia said, handing her a sword from one of the skeleton troopers.

Grimacing, Brigid beheaded the witch. Her head rolled out into the middle of the chamber from the force of the blow. "Fire?"

"I'm sure she has something here you could use for that," Wystalia muttered, rummaging through the wreckage. "Ah, here you go."

"What's that?" Brigid asked, taking the flask from her.

"Bottled dragon fire," she said. "Appropriate, since she probably stole it from the dragon kin. Just be careful. It'll burn everything it touches that was once alive. Quickly."

"So, we shouldn't do this here?" Brigid asked, looking around.

"Do you want to carry her out of the tower?" Wystalia asked.

"No," Brigid said, trying not to look down at the headless witch.

"I agree."

"What about the running water?" Brigid asked.

"There's a cistern on the roof," Wystalia said. "We can dump that on her ashes."

"That'll work?" Brigid asked. Magic was not something she understood in any way.

"It's the symbolism," Wystalia said. "As long as the water is running when it hits her ashes it should work."

"If it doesn't?" Brigid asked.

"We'll find out in a hundred summers," Wystalia said.

"I won't be alive in a hundred summers," Brigid told her.

"You never know," she said. "But I most likely will. We'll worry about her coming back then."

"How long do elves live?" Brigid asked as she used a spear to push the witch's body into the center of the chamber next to her head.

"Longer than humans and human gods," she said. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Brigid nodded. She would ask Lars when she got back to the fort. He seemed to know things like that. Cautiously opening the flask, she poured it on the witch, jumping back as the center of the chamber erupted into flames.

"Now what?" she asked.

"We wait for that to end," Wystalia said. "We should probably burn the rest of this so no one else takes it."

"You don't want any of it?" Brigid asked, looking around the chamber.

"Human magic and our magic don't mix well," she said. "What did the queen promise you?"

"The witch's greatest treasure," Brigid said. "I think it's in that chest," she said pointing at the chest the witch had been trying to open when Brigid stabbed her.

"You're most likely correct," Wystalia told her. "We'll burn everything else."

"I haven't dealt with the dragon kin yet," Brigid protested.

"Honesty in a human?" Wystalia said mockingly. "The queen won't believe me. If she cared."

"I made a promise," Brigid said.

"Oh, I'd hold you to it if you tried to run away now," Wystalia told her. "We'll take it with us and put it in a safe place while you deal with them. But first the witch."

* * *

While Brigid sat next to the small chest on the landing, and watched the water from the cistern wash the last of the witch's ashes down the tower stairs, Wystalia piled everything else into a pile in the middle of the room.

"Ready?" she shouted.

Grabbing the small chest, Brigid stood up. "Ready."

As soon as she said that, Wystalia poured the rest of the flask of dragon fire onto the large pile. Tossing the flask onto the roaring blaze, she ran out to join Brigid. "Careful on the way down," she said. "I don't have any potions or magic to fix broken bones or a neck."

Shaking her head, Brigid followed her down the steps, leaving the sound of the burning chamber behind. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked up but couldn't see anything. Stepping outside she again looked up, this time seeing smoke billowing out of the distant top of the tower.

"We should probably leave before it falls down," Wystalia said. "Or this catches fire," she added, kicking at the black rock paving the castle courtyard.

"This rock?" Brigid asked. "What is it?"

"I don't know what the human word for this is," Wystalia said. "But it burns. Very hotly. The witch must have enchanted it so the dragon kin couldn't set fire to it. But now that she's dead... We don't want to be here when that happens."

"No. Dying in a fire in a witch's castle? I'd rather not," Brigid said, looking around the now deserted castle.

"We can watch it burn from the ridge," Wystalia said.

* * *

"Now what do we do?" Brigid asked, staring down at the black plume of smoke coming from the burning castle.

"It's mid-day," Wystalia said, remounting. "I know a hot spring nearby. We can clean up and eat."

"And then?" Brigid asked, remounting her own nag mora.

"We need to find the dragon kin for you to kill," she said. "They won't go far from the witch's castle. They'll stay in this mountain range."

"Are there other dragon kin in these mountains?" Brigid asked. She suspected her life would end very quickly if she killed the wrong ones.

"The rest of the dragon kin moved to a mountain range further north when the witch enslaved these," Wystalia said. "They are the only ones in these mountains. Well, except for a wyrm or two at the southern end. Those are just pests. You can kill them if you want, after we take care of the dragon kin. The fire dwarves will probably let you keep part of the wyrm's treasure if you tell them first."

"Fire dwarves?" Brigid asked.

"They live near that volcano near the ocean," Wystalia said. "They are always complaining about the wyrms stealing their gold."

"One hunt at a time," Brigid said faintly.

"You're very patient for such a young human," Wystalia told her.

"I'm not that young," Brigid protested.

"To an elf you are," Wystalia said. "Though some seem to like them young, I think it's an acquired taste."

Brigid grimaced. It was hard to tell when the elf was joking. "Where are the hot springs," she asked.

"We're almost there," the elf said.

* * *

Brigid sighed, relaxing in the hot water, the steam obscuring the often confusing elf. "How long will it take to find the dragon kin?" she asked.

"No time at all," Wystalia said. "They've gone back to their caves."

"And you already know where these caves are?" Brigid asked. "Why aren't we there now?"

"There is no hurry," she said. "They'll still be there tomorrow."

"How do you know?" Brigid asked. Wystalia seemed to get a lot of delight out of keeping things she needed to know from her, she'd noticed.

"All of the dragon kin caves in this range have dragon traps," she said.

"Dragon traps?"

"Yes. We set them up when the other dragon kin moved north. They don't work on normal dragon kin but the witch cursed kin won't be able to escape without help."

"Why weren't they trapped already?" Brigid asked, confused.

"While the witch was alive they stayed near her," Wystalia said. "They had a cave somewhere near the castle."

"So, this isn't really a hunt?" Brigid asked. "You just expect me to slaughter these dragon kin like cattle?"

"These are not cattle," Wystalia told her firmly, leaning closer. "These are dangerous large creatures the witch cursed with mindlessness. The only release from the curse is death. And we will honor their passing afterward," she said.

"And the traps?" Brigid asked, frowning. "Can they escape?"

"It prevents them from flying away, but otherwise doesn't limit their movement. If we're lucky they will be in different caves. Even with the potion you drank, I don't believe you'll be able to handle two dragon kin at the same time."

"I'll need a shaft for my spear hook," Brigid said. "I can't do this with just a knife."

"That can be arranged," Wystalia said. "There's a weapons cache near here."

"So, why wait until tomorrow?" Brigid asked.

"Even elves get tired," Wystalia said. "And that potion you drank doesn't eliminate the need for rest."

"So, you're saying you need to take a nap because you are getting old?" Brigid asked.

"I don't need a nap," Wystalia said, splashing her. "You are the one who will be fighting tomorrow, while I watch. A good night's sleep will do you good."

"If you say so, grandma," Brigid said, giggling, splashing her back.

"Should I request one of your gods to come punish you for your impertinence?" she asked.

"You know a lot about humans," Brigid said, looking over at the partially submerged elf. "How?"

"I am the Apolia," Wystalia said. At Brigid's confused look she added "How can I protect our realm if I don't understand what I'm protecting it from?"

"So most elves don't know the things you do?" Brigid asked.

"Most elves know only a few words of your human languages. And have no need to," she said. "You were lucky that you did not run into another elf. They would have killed you just for stepping onto our realm."

"Oh," Brigid said. She'd been spending so much time with Wystalia that she'd forgotten about Lars' warnings about the dark elves. "Once I finish with the dragon kin I'll leave and never come back," she said. "I'm sure there are wyrms elsewhere I can hunt."

"Although we are forcing you to do this," Wystalia said, "for what you are doing to free the dragon kin from the witch's curse, the elves of this realm will be in you and your descendant's debt as long as our lands are here. You will be welcome here always."

"If I live tomorrow," Brigid added glumly.

"If you live tomorrow," Wystalia said in agreement. "But that's tomorrow. Today we did well. And you even have a prize."

"A prize I won't enjoy if I die," Brigid said. "On the bright side, if I do die maybe I'll get to meet a valkyrie and see my father in Frejya's Hall."

"Humans," Wystalia muttered. "Always seeing the bright side of death."

"Elves," Brigid said in the same tone in response, before giggling and splashing her companion.

* * *

"We don't need to share the tent tonight do we?" Brigid asked, sitting on the edge of the hot spring pool letting the warm air from one of the vents dry her. "Now that the witch is dead?"

"I only have one tent," the elf said. "If you want to sleep on hard rock, go ahead, but do you want to be tired tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Brigid frowned.

"When you fight the dragon kin," Wystalia said.

"No," Brigid said. "But do we have to be naked?"

"That is up to you," Wystalia said. "I see no reason for clothes. The tent will keep us warm enough without them."

"Elves have no modesty," Brigid grumbled.

"Modesty is a human trait," Wystalia said. "Clothes are for decoration or protection. Neither of which applies in this situation."

"You've never talked with any of the Carpenter's followers," Brigid said. "They believe that only their god can see them naked."

"The followers of this carpenter are foolish then," Wystalia said. "The true gods don't care about nakedness."

"True gods?" Brigid said. "I thought elves didn't have gods. You said so yourself."

"I did?" Wystalia asked. "You must have misunderstood me. The human gods are not our own. Our gods have no need to appear before us to tell us how to honor them. Worship is a human thing. We follow the dictates of the All just as your Odin and Thor should."

"I have no idea what you mean," Brigid muttered.

"You are young, and human," Wystalia said. "Trying to understand the gods is something even your elders struggle with. Why do you think you have so many gods running around?"

"A deep thinking elf," Brigid muttered. "Why couldn't I get stuck with one interested in other things. Like hunting."

"Or procreation?" Wystalia asked, smirking.

"Or better jokes," Brigid said.

"I tell excellent jokes," Wystalia said, rising from the spring to sit next to her, her long hair floating in the light breeze. Brigid wondered when she'd gotten so used to the elf and her casual nakedness. It was like being at home using the sauna, where no one cared. Except for the Carpenter worshippers.

"Doesn't long hair get in the way in battle?" she asked, curious, running her fingers through Wystalia's hair. When she started to hum, like some giant, human shaped cat, Brigid quickly snatched away her hand.

"No," Wystalia said, still humming.

"I couldn't do that," Brigid said. "I don't have time to take care of long hair when I'm hunting."

"I keep it braided," Wystalia said. "And under my armor. It adds padding."

"Oh," Brigid said, nodding.

The elf shrugged. Standing up, she reached for her shift, pulling it on. "We should get you that spear and move closer to the dragon kin caves."

"Can't we stay here?" Brigid asked.

"Other creatures use these springs," Wystalia said. "Creatures we don't need to antagonize."

"Like what?"

"Rock trolls," she said.

"Rock trolls use these hot springs?" Brigid said, standing up quickly.

"They drink from one of the boiling sulfur springs," Wystalia said. "They don't bathe in the springs. Or at all." she said.

* * *

Their new camp seemed very much like the one from the night before, Brigid thought as she watched Wystalia make their evening meal. "Who made all of these camp sites?" she asked.

"The Queen's engineers take care of them," she said. "But only elves can find them."

"So, if I wasn't with you?" Brigid asked.

"You'd be sleeping out in the rocks," Wystalia told her.

"Ah," Brigid said. She didn't expect to come back to these mountains, even if the elves allowed her to, and she survived the dragon kin, but it was a good thing to know.

"Did you want to see what's in the witch's chest?" Wystalia asked, after they'd finished eating their brief meal, before retiring for the night.

"If you think it's alright," Brigid said, putting away her tools.

"It'll be all yours tomorrow," she said. "There's no reason to wait."

Brigid nodded, not wanting to state the obvious. "How do we open it?"

Wystalia held up a key. "The witch has no need for this anymore."

Brigid giggled, and then brought the small chest over to the elf. "It won't be booby-trapped?" she asked.

"No," Wystalia said. "She wasn't expecting anyone to ever get past her creatures."

"It did seem too easy," Brigid said.

"Don't fool yourself," Wystalia said, jiggling the key in the chest's lock. "That wasn't an easy task."

"But it took both of us," Brigid said. "I couldn't have killed her on my own."

"I won't tell anyone," Wystalia said, finally unlocking the chest. "What have we got here?"

"It looks like a medallion," Brigid said, resisting the urge to pick it up.

"It's not," Wystalia said, using her knife to lift it out of the chest by its chain. "It's soaked in the witch's magic."

"Maybe I shouldn't take it," Brigid said.

"No, it's yours," she told her. "After we finish with the dragon kin, we'll take it to someone I know who understands human magic. Until then you should keep it safe."

"Back in the chest?" Brigid asked.

"I think it's safe to wear," Wystalia said. "By you anyway."

"If you say so," Brigid said, reaching out and taking the medallion. "It's warm," she said in surprise."

"It glowed when you touched it," the elf said. "It definitely belongs to you."

Too tired to argue, Brigid slipped the chain over her neck. The medallion nestled warmly between her breasts.

* * *

"And that's it for tonight," Brittany said. "Tomorrow they face dragons."

"How long ago was this?" Rachel asked. "They don't talk I thought they would."

"How should they talk?" Brittany asked, puzzled.

"Like they do in Shakespeare," Rachel said. "This isn't anything like that."

"This isn't Shakespeare, Berry," Santana said, standing up. "They're up north, like Vikings."

"They don't sounds like Vikings either," Rachel said.

"If I told the story using the original words they spoke you wouldn't understand me," Brittany said. "I'm translating it into English, mostly."

"Oh!" Rachel said. "Thanks."

"Are we done?"

Kurt asked, pulling out a cell phone. "I need to call home."

"All done," Brittany said, waving him off. "Go."

"How are you holding up?" Santana asked her as they headed towards their cabin.

"I haven't told this story in a long time," Brittany said. "It's a lot of talking. Do you think they will want to hear the rest of it?"

"You're getting to the exciting bit," Santana said. "Of course they want to hear the rest."

"Can we just cuddle tonight?" Brittany asked, stopping in front of their cabin door.

"Whatever you want," Santana said, holding the door open for her.

"You're an awesome girlfriend," Brittany said, stepping into the cabin.

"For you? Always," Santana said, closing the door behind them.


	6. Dragon Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid goes dragon hunting with her elf. It's not quite how she thought it would be.

Brittany leaned back against Santana. "You can do that all night," she said with a sigh, as Santana slowly rubbed her shoulders.

Hey! None of that," Quinn said from across the bonfire. "There are children here."

"Speak for yourself," Santana said, glaring at her. "If Brit wants a massage she gets one."

"What about the story?" Rachel said. "What's Brigid up to now?"

"Dragons?" Kurt asked.

"Dragons," Brittany said, nodding. "She finally runs into a real dragon."

* * *

Brigid quickly pulled her head back into the tent. Even in the sheltered alcove they'd made camp in, the rain was pouring down and looked like it would never stop. Unlike a certain elf, she couldn't sleep with the sound of rainwater pounding down on them.

"When will it stop?" she grumbled, lying back down next to Wystalia.

"Does it matter?" she asked. "The dragon kin caverns will be nice and dry."

"But I won't be dry getting there," Brigid said. "And you didn't say you knew which caves they would be in," she added.

"There are only a dozen of them," Wystalia told her. "They aren't far apart, no more than a league at the furthest."

"I'll look like a drowned rat before I even get there," Brigid complained.

"We can wait for the rain to stop," the elf said. "We have enough food for a week, and no other hunters will be wandering around."

"A week? How long do you think it will take?" Brigid asked, turning to look at her.

"From here? If it stops raining soon? A half day to get up to the caves and find the ones the dragon kin are in. Depending on your skill, a day for each of them," Wystalia said. "If you get hurt fighting the first one you'll have to take the time to recover before the second. The potion has sped up your healing ability, but it can only work so fast with your human body."

"What if we run out of food?" Brigid asked.

"There's a cache of travel rations near the weapons cache we stopped at yesterday," Wystalia said.

"Why didn't we stop there yesterday," Brigid asked.

"We didn't have a reason to," she told her. "There was no reason to disturb it when we didn't need it. It'll still be there in a week, if necessary."

"If you say so," Brigid said.

"I do," Wystalia told her. "You need to learn to plan your hunts better than this," she said. "You're not always going to have someone else to take care of the details."

"Sorry," Brigid grumbled. "I do appreciate your help. I didn't have a real plan once I discovered the princess was eaten by the dragon kin."

"Princess?" Wystalia said, sitting up slightly. "What princess?"

"I didn't mention her?" Brigid said, grimacing.

"No," Wystalia said.

"Are you sure?" Brigid asked. It had been a long week since leaving the fort. She might have forgotten to mention her.

"I believe I would have remembered something like that," Wystalia said. "Explain, with details. We have plenty of time."

"The King sent my cousin, the princess to the fort. I'm not sure what she did but he wasn't happy with her," Brigid said.

"It seems to be something princesses do, annoy their fathers," Wystalia said. "I did the same thing myself."

"The king of the elves of this realm is your father?" Brigid asked in surprise.

"Not the current king," Wystalia said. "My father became dragon kin while your people still lived on the shores of the middle sea."

"But you're still a princess," Brigid said. "I'm just the cousin of one."

"It doesn't work that way for us," Wystalia said, shaking her head. "The princess is always the current daughter of the king and queen. The older generations who survive don't have titles. Or power, unless they find a place with the current rulers."

"Huh," Brigid mumbled. "According to my mother, human princesses are always princesses until they die, unless they become queens or their lands are conquered and they are sold into slavery."

"You were explaining what happened to this princess," Wystalia reminded her.

"The princess disappeared several days after the dragon kin started stealing sheep," Brigid said.

"Dragon kin don't eat princesses," Wystalia said firmly.

"They found her boots a days travel from the fort," Brigid said. "They'd been dropped from a great height."

"That's not proof," Wystalia said.

"I followed the dragon trail to a clearing a days travel from the fort. There was a large pole and dragon sign, and a large amount of blood," Brigid said. "Someone sacrificed the princess to attract the dragon kin."

"It's possible the witch used the princess to trap the dragon kin," Wystalia said. "If she was truly a royal princess, her blood has power. And it would have taken something like that to curse the dragon kin the way the witch did."

"That's not what I thought," Brigid said. "But I didn't know anything about the dragon kin and the witch. Do you think we'll ever know, now that the witch is dead? We can't ask the dragon kin if they ate her, can we?"

"No," Wystalia said. "They are just mute beasts now. There's no way to look into their minds and see what they did."

"I don't want to be the one to tell the King his daughter was eaten by dragons," Brigid said.

"Do you have to tell him that? You don't really know what happened to her," Wystalia said. "Bring back proof you killed a wyrm, since you humans don't seem to know the difference between dragon kin and wyrms, and just tell him you didn't find any sign of the princess in their cave."

"You aren't going to let me bring back anything from the dragon kin to show that I killed them, are you," Brigid said.

"No," she said in the tone of voice Brigid was learning couldn't be argued with. "If you need believable proof, you can go to the fire dwarves and kill one of their wyrms."

"I thought you'd say something like that," Brigid grumbled.

"If you can kill feral dragon kin, a wyrm should be easy," Wystalia said. "The kin will be a lot hard to kill."

"Haven't yet," Brigid reminded her, idly playing with the end of Wystalia's braid as they lay there. It wasn't rough like her mother's hair. She couldn't remember ever touching anything so soft before.

"The rain should stop by midday," Wystalia said, rolling back over, the movement pulling the braid out of Brigid's hand.

"How do you know?" Brigid asked. "Is that something elves can do, know when the rain will stop?"

"No," she said, her musical laugh filling the tent. "It's fall in the Whistling Mountains. It never rains past midday."

"And you couldn't have said something earlier?" Brigid said, grabbing her braid again. She just couldn't resist playing with it.

"Would it have made a difference?" she asked.

"Maybe?" Brigid said. "Read to me," she demanded.

"Read to you?" Wystalia poked her. "Why?"

"Lying here listening to the rain is boring. You have that scroll you are constantly looking at," Brigid said. "Read some of it to me."

"You don't have anything of your own to read?" Wystalia asked.

"Not here," Brigid said evasively.

"Can you read?" Wystalia asked.

"I can read a little Latin, and runes," Brigid said defensively. She wasn't going to explain to a former elf princess that she was lucky to be able to read at all, since she was only a distant member of the royal family, and that the only things to read were the large, decorated holy books of the Carpenter, and boring accounts of raids. "What are you reading?" she asked.

"The dragon kin like riddles," Wystalia said. "They're from my father."

"The dragon kin can write?" Brigid asked.

"The ones who were elves," she said. "Though they don't find it very easy. Their claws get in the way. They hire scribes when they can."

"And your father is still alive?" Brigid asked in surprise.

"Dragon kin live even longer than elves," Wystalia said. "Unless they run into a powerful witch or wizard."

"Oh," Brigid murmured. She was silent for a while as she thought. She wondered what it was like to live so long, both as an elf and as a dragon. "Why did he do it?" she asked.

"Do what? Send me riddles?" Wystalia asked.

"No, become dragon kin?"

"My mother was still alive, and he wasn't ready to leave her behind and join the All," Wystalia said.

"Did she become dragon kin also?" Brigid asked, rolling slightly, trying to look at her face as she answered the question.

"No, she thought he was foolish for changing," she said, frowning sadly.

"Was he?" Brigid asked.

"He has his amusements," Wystalia said. "He seems to be happy with his decision."

"Even though your mother didn't change also?"

"She'd had enough of life and was ready to move on," Wystalia said. "He couldn't argue with her decision."

"Do you plan to become dragon kin?" Brigid asked her.

"Not today," she said with a laugh. "I've thought about it but I'm in no hurry to die. There are still plenty of things to do and places to see."

"I'm glad," Brigid said, leaning against her. "So, read to me," she demanded again.

Laughing, Wystalia pulled out the scroll and started reading from it, the musical sound of her voice pleasant in Brigid's ears, even if she didn't understand what she was saying.

"What does it mean in my language," Brigid asked, remembering how Latin sounded so much better when you didn't know what it meant.

"Do you really want to know?" Wystalia asked her.

"Yes," Brigid insisted. "Your language makes everything sound beautiful. You could be reading an inventory of the things in your pack and it would still sound interesting."

Wystalia raised a slim eyebrow, and started from the beginning, but this time in Brigid's language.

* * *

The rain stopped at midday, as Wystalia had predicted. After giving the ground around the campsite a little time to dry, they ate their meal and packed up. Brigid was still amazed at the way the tent could be a small disc that fit in a pocket and be expanded to something they could sleep in. She wondered if she could get her own but wasn't sure how to ask Wystalia without appearing greedy.

Looking around the campsite, now completely empty, Brigid waited until Wystalia was on her beast before gingerly mounting her own. Even if Wystalia said the beast was safe, and she'd been riding it for several days, she couldn't help being cautious.

She'd kept wearing the still warm medallion they'd taken from the witch, dangling between her breasts. That seemed to be the safest place for it while they traveled. And the extra warmth in the cold mountains wasn't a problem either.

* * *

Brigid stared at the large cavern mouth high above them. They'd found one of the dragon kin, a small female, curled up in one of the lower caverns further down the range. Brigid had choked when Wystalia told her that she was looking at a small dragon. If she judged it correctly, it had been twice her height as it lay there. There was only one cavern left to check for the other dragon.

Once they knew where both of the dragon kin were, they could come up with a plan. Brigid knew she wasn't going to be lucky enough to just run into their dens and stab them in the heart. Even in this state, they were going to sense her as soon as she stepped through the dragon traps.

Wystalia had been very specific with the ways she could kill the cursed dragon kin. To Brigid, it seemed to be more ceremony than the mercy killing Wystalia claimed it to be. But she wasn't going to argue. They weren't her kin.

"How do we get up there?" she asked.

"See the path?" Wystalia said, pointing out a faint indentation that meandered up the rock face.

"So I climb up to the cavern, kill the dragon kin, and come down?" Brigid asked.

"We'll go up together," Wystalia said. "You must strike the death blow, but you won't face them alone."

"I thought you couldn't assist in any way?" Brigid asked, starting to remove her pack and travel clothes that would be in the way in a battle with a dragon. Wystalia was in turn removing her armor, stripping down to the shift she wore in camp.

"I shall just be observing," Wystalia said, "representing the elf kin."

"You took off your armor," Brigid said.

"Elf kin do not go into the homes of the dragon kin armed," she said. "Curse or no curse." Placing her armor and other clothes in a pile next to Brigid's, she placed several glowing stones around them. "No one will disturb them while we are gone," she said in explanation.

"Oh," Brigid said, as she carefully laid out the weapons she would be taking.

"When you are ready, we will go."

* * *

It had been a long slow climb up the path on the cliff face, Wystalia leading the way. The sun seemed to pin her form to the rock face through her shift, the small bag she had slung over her shoulder bouncing rhythmically against her back.

The cavern mouth was wide and smooth. Brigid could imagine it being rubbed smooth by generations of dragon kin coming and going. Wystalia motioned her further in. They stood several paces from the edge.

"The trap is here," Wystalia said, holding her hand against an invisible something blocking the cavern mouth.

"I don't see anything," Brigid said. "Shouldn't I be able to?" She reached out and tried to feel it but there wasn't anything there. "I can't feel it."

"The potion did not really make you elf kin," Wystalia said. "Just as the dragon trap keeps the dragon kin in, it keeps the elf kin who set it out. But It does not work for any person who has drunk the potion."

"Why use it?" Brigid asked.

"This is the way it has always been," Wystalia said. "We call it a dragon trap. But that is not quite true. It is a wall. A shield that allows the dragon and elf kin to join together."

"Why?" Brigid asked. "Don't the dragon and elf kin get along?"

"Not this way," Wystalia said. "We live separate lives because we have different needs and thoughts. Most communication between the dragon and elf kin is by writing, but sometimes we must meet face to face."

Brigid nodded. "What do I do?" she asked.

"Stand there," Wystalia said, pointing at a darkened spot near the trap. "You will be safe." Raising her voice she shouted something in elvish into the cavern. There was silence. She shouted again. A faint roar echoed back to them in challenge. The second roar was much closer, causing Brigid to shiver in reaction.

She knew being afraid of a charging dragon was normal. Her father had made sure that she knew fear was a normal reaction to an attacking dragon, by even the most experienced hunter. He believed the only way to overcome such fear was by knowing. But that didn't mean she enjoyed the roar of her heart and the rasp of air as she breathed deeply in an attempt to control her reaction. She really wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to go that wouldn't kill her also.

To take her mind off of the dragon now engaged in what sounded like a shouting match with Wystalia, Brigid focused on the last few battles she'd been in. Fighting the raiders had been a long, drawn out experience. She'd been afraid but it had been different. Easier. It had been a constant feeling in the pit of her stomach. Their attack on the witch had been similar. Frightening but manageable. Though, if she'd really thought about what they faced with the witch, and if she had been alone, Brigid thought she would have run away, no matter how brave Wystalia said she'd been.

Brigid braced her spear against the floor as she waited for the signal. Wystalia might think the dragon trap would keep the dragon kin inside the cavern, but she wasn't taking any chances.

Brigid instinctively ducked as a blast of flame seared the air above her head. "What did you say to it?" she asked Wystalia.

"It was a ritual challenge," Wystalia said, frowning before ducking a blast of flame shot in her direction.

"Which was?" Brigid asked, dropping to her stomach to avoid another blast of flame. She seemed to be safe at the moment but that didn't mean the dragon wasn't trying to kill her anyway.

"It doesn't translate well," Wystalia said. "It is meant to get a dragon kin's attention and make them angry and careless."

"It worked," Brigid said, staring up at the dragon that was now towering above them and trying to get through the trap to get to her. Occasionally it would tense and try to fry them with its breath, but she was able to dodge with only a small singe here and there.

"You must stab the dragon kin in the heart with your spear," Wystalia reminded her.

"That means going in," Brigid said, "and facing it directly."

"Yes," Wystalia said. "Be ready!"

* * *

Brigid leaned against the side of the cavern opening, waiting for Wystalia to finish. The burns down her side, where the dragon kin had singed her, burning through three layers of clothes, still ached under the salve Wystalia had applied to it. She couldn't seem to escape the smell of burned hair but Brigid wasn't going to ask Wystalia to cut off the charred edges until they'd finished.

"How are you doing?" Wystalia asked, sitting down next to her, her legs dangling out over the edge.

"Sore. Tired," Brigid said bluntly.

"You did well," she said.

"I'm alive," Brigid said. "Always a good thing to survive."

"The dragon kin did not suffer," Wystalia said. "You sent it on to the All quickly."

"I was just trying to stay alive," Brigid said, rubbing her should where the dragon's tail had knocked her into the far wall of the cavern.

Wystalia shook her head but didn't contradict her. "Tomorrow you will help the other dragon kin."

"Are you done?" Brigid asked. She'd been too sore earlier to pay much attention to Wystalia's actions in the cavern. "What will happen?"

"The kin is laid out in honor, as it should be," Wystalia said. "Once we get down it will be closed up and no one will be able to disturb it."

"How are we going to get down?" Brigid said. "I don't think I'll be able to climb down like this."

"We jump," Wystalia said, giving a small laugh.

"Jump?" Brigid squeaked.

"Yes," Wystalia said, opening the small bag she'd carried up to the cavern. "It isn't very far." Reaching into the bag she pulled out several small bundles of material.

"Magic?" Brigid asked, watching Wystalia unpack the first bundle.

"A small amount," she said. "These will slow us down enough that the magic will work."

"What is that called?" Brigid asked.

Wystalia said something in elvish that sounded like a combination of hacking cough and bird cry. "There isn't a word in your language for it."

"How does it work?" Brigid asked.

"You know the tree with the seeds that look like a birds wings? If you drop the seed it rotates as it falls?"

"Yes," Brigid said.

"These will do the same for us," Wystalia said. "They will slow us down as we fall. They work much better from a greater height."

"What does the magic do?" Brigid asked, trying to imagine what Wystalia had described.

"It makes us lighter, so we fall slow enough for these to work."

"Is it safe?" Brigid asked.

"Safer than just jumping off a cliff," she said. "There's a mountain in the northern range with a straight cliff drop for more than two leagues that ends in a lake. It is almost like floating as you fall."

"You've done it?" Brigid asked, trying to picture it.

"Once or twice," Wystalia said. "Come here," she said, gesturing her over after putting on the collection of leather and cloth..

"What do I do?" Brigid asked nervously as Wystalia wrapped her into the odd belt contraption, leaving two long tails hanging from her shoulders, and making sure her weapons were secured tightly.

"I'll go first," Wystalia said when she finished. "Do what I do." Saying this she stepped back several paces from the edge. "You need to jump out as far as possible so you don't hit the side of the cliff. Sticking your arms out will help slow your fall." Pausing for a moment, Wystalia darted towards the edge. Reaching it she jumped and out, spinning as she did so.

As she spun around to face Brigid she seemed to hang in the air for a moment. With a big grin on her face she pulled in her arms and spun faster as she dropped. Brigid raced to the edge to watch her fall.

Brigid stared as she spun and fell. It couldn't have taken very long. Wystalia had been correct about it being a short distance. She gasped when Wystalia hit the ground in a large cloud of dust. When the dust had cleared away, she was standing looking unharmed.

"Your turn," Wystalia shouted up at her.

Taking a deep breath, Brigid positioned herself as close as she could get to the way Wystalia had been. It took several more deep slow breaths to calm herself.

Racing towards the cliff edge, she pushed off with one foot when she reached it, trying to jump up out over the empty air giving herself a spin.

And then she was dropping. Quickly. Following Wystalia's advice she stuck out her arms, trying to slow herself down as she spun. The cliff flew past almost too fast to see. It wasn't a feeling she'd ever had before. The spinning made it hard to look down.

And then she was hitting the ground, her knees bending with the force. Unlike Wystalia, she wasn't able to keep on her feet, tumbling over into a heap.

Wystalia helped her stand and then started removing the harness. "That wasn't too bad was it?" she asked. "Not a bad landing for a beginner."

"Um…" Brigid tried to give her opinion but was too dizzy. If Wystalia hadn't been holding onto her she would have ended up sitting back on the ground. "I'd rather fight a dragon with a broom," Brigid said. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"It's the spinning," Wystalia said, grinning. "It often has that affect the first time. It'll wear off soon."

Brigid nodded, taking the flask that Wystalia held out. Taking a sip, she gasped as liquid fire seemed to flow down her throat. "What's that?" she asked when she was able to speak again.

"A special mix," Wystalia said. "A little bit of the potion and elixir."

"Elixir?"

"You humans have something similar," Wystalia said. "It's from fermented fruit."

"Oh," she said. "Why did you mix it with the potion? I thought I didn't need anymore of that?"

"It'll help with your burns, and you did hit the ground harder than I expected you to," she said. "If you hadn't drunk the potion earlier you probably would have broken something."

"Why didn't you tell me that before I jumped!" Brigid said.

"Would you have jumped?" Wystalia asked her.

"No," Brigid said, not having to think twice about it.

"If you'd tried to go down the same way we went up you'd still be up there," Wystalia said. "Or you would have fallen."

"I would have been fine," Brigid grumbled. Wystalia just shook her head. "What do we do now?" Brigid asked.

"Back to our camp," she said. "You need to let the potion and salve work so you can deal with the last dragon kin in the morning. Fortunately, the other cave is easier to reach."

* * *

Brigid had spent a restless night. In the morning Wystalia had claimed she'd been forced to wrap her in her arms and hold her tight to keep her from tipping over the tent, to explain how close they were when she woke up.

"How will this go?" Brigid asked as they approached the cavern. It wasn't at ground level but was easily reached. Wystalia had explained the day before that the location of a dragon kin's chamber reflected their status. This dragon must be very young she decided, as she once more removed all unnecessary clothes and Wystalia removed her armor.

Standing just inside the chamber, Brigid watched Wystalia follow the same procedure as she'd used the day before, testing the trap and then the challenge. This time the response from the dragon kin was much fainter, causing Wystalia to from.

"What's wrong?" Brigid asked.

"I'm not sure," Wystalia said before shouting the challenge for a third time. When the dragon kin didn't respond, she shook her head. "You'll have to be careful," she said. "It's possible it's a trap but the kin should be here."

Brigid nodded, waiting for Wystalia's signal. When it came she cautious stepped past the dragon trap, listening carefully. She could hear faint breathing and headed towards it, glad that the potion had improved her eyesight so that she could see in the dark cavern.

Curled up in a corner over the cavern was a small dragon, at least compared to the one she'd fought the day before. It lifted its head and turned to look at her as she approached, before curling back up. Seen like this, and not trying to kill her, the dragon kin was beautiful in an unexpected way. Too beautiful to kill like this, she thought.

Turning, Brigid went back to the front of the cavern.

"What's wrong?" Wystalia asked when she saw her. She was sitting in front of the trap, staring into the cavern.

"I don't know," Brigid said. "You need to come see this."

She frowned at Brigid. "I can't go in while the dragon kin is alive, unless I disable the trap."

"I'm not doing anything until you look and tell me what is going on," Brigid said, waiting for her to get up.

"If the dragon kin escapes, it could take us days to track down," Wystalia warned her.

"I don't think it is going anywhere," Brigid told her, holding out her hand to help Wystalia stand. She waved Brigid back through, stopping in front of the trap.

Frowning, Wystalia took two small crystals from her pouch and placed them at the base of the trap, several steps apart. As she pushed them through, a faint arch appeared between them.

"Did that disable the whole trap?" Brigid asked, as Wystalia joined her on the other side of the barrier.

"No, but it weakened it. The dragon kin can use it to break through if it sees it," she said.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Brigid repeated, briskly walking towards the inner chamber, Wystalia cautiously following.

When they reached the dragon, it looked at them, just as it had looked at Brigid earlier, before going back to ignoring its surroundings, curled up in the corner.

"What's wrong with it," Brigid asked. Wystalia shook her head.

"You're an impatient little human, aren't you?" she said, shaking her head.

"I'm not little," Brigid said. "I'm almost as tall as you!"

"I'm short for an elf my age," Wystalia said, cautiously circling the dragon kin. "You're still short." She knelt down and looked the dragon kin in the eye. Switching to its other eye she started singing in a high, keening tone. The dragon made a huffing sound in response. Brigid wasn't sure what she was singing but it made her feel sad.

"What happened," she asked Wystalia when she stopped.

"She's dying," Wystalia said. "The witch's magic is wearing off and killing her. It's part of the witch's curse."

"Her?" Brigid asked. "Is this someone you know?"

"No," Wystalia said, though Brigid wondered if she was lying, from her expression. She didn't have much experience, if any, reading elf facial expressions but she could tell something was off, and not in the way she'd reacted to the death of the other dragon kin.

"Why didn't the other dragon kin have this problem?" Brigid asked.

"It was older, larger," she said. "The witch's curse would have killed it eventually but it would have taken several moons. This little one is dying already."

"So I don't need to kill it?" Brigid asked hopefully. The dragon was just lying there, and she didn't want to kill it if it was harmless.

"If you don't it will suffer. The curse will slowly kill the dragon kin. Right now it is in shock but once the curse takes over it will cause a lot of pain. And the dragon kin will go crazy from the pain."

"So, if we don't do anything we won't be doing that merciful thing we did with the other dragon," Brigid said.

"Yes," Wystalia said. "The kin deserves a more honorable death than the witch's curse."

Brigid sighed, she'd really hoped to get out of this one. It might be because of some elf honor code but killing such a sad looking creature didn't make her happy.

"The same as the other kin?" she asked.

"Yes," Wystalia said. "A quick stab through her heart." She stepped back from the dragon kin. "I'll wait over there," she said, pointing towards the chamber entrance.

Brigid nodded. This was a lot harder than fighting a dragon, she decided, the kin giving her a sad look. She wasn't going to be telling anyone about this hunt. "I'm sorry," she said, raising her spear. Taking a deep breath, she thrust it into the side of the dragon kin with as much force as possible.

The dragon kin turned to look at her as the thrust connected. With a small sigh, it collapsed, falling onto its side. Brigid stepped back, pulling out the spear, allowing a stream of dark blood to flow out, creating a large pool around the dragon kin.

Definitely not a tale to tell, Brigid decided. There'd been no fight, no excitement. Just sadness at the passing of a beautiful beast. And crying, she discovered, wiping her face. She wasn't sure why she was having this reaction. The death of the other dragon kin hadn't caused her to cry.

She wasn't sure when Wystalia joined her by the side of the dragon kin. She wondered if elves cried, or if that was only a human thing, but she wasn't about to ask.

"Go clean up." Wystalia said softly, patting her on the shoulder. "I'll take care of her," she said, handing Brigid a small piece of material.

Brigid nodded, wiping the blade of her spear on the piece of cloth before handing it back. None of the dragon kin's blood could leave the chamber. Hoisting her spear over her shoulder, she gave the dragon kin one last look, before turning around and heading for the cavern mouth.

* * *

I wasn't expecting that," Quinn said.

"That was so sad," Rachel said, sniffing and rubbing her eyes. "That poor dragon."

"The dragons aren't demons or evil. Just cursed by that witch. They have feelings, and some used to be elves," Brittany said. "It's okay to be sad."

"That was awesome," Kennedy said. "Not the sad dragon," she added quickly. "But the fight with the other dragon and the jumping off a cliff. It's like base jumping. We should do that tomorrow."

"Ken, we have plans for tomorrow," Willow said. "You can do that some other time.

Brittany giggled at Willow's grumbled exasperated 'Slayers' before addressing the others. "Do you want to know what happened with the medalion Brigit got from the evil witch tonight or wait until tomorrow?"

"Are you okay with that, Brit?" Santana asked, looking concerned. "Today was a long day."

"Yes," Brittany said. This is the part some of you have been waiting for."

"Really?" Willow said, excitedly lean forward.

"What else is there?" Quinn asked. "We had the witch, and elves, and now dragons."

"You'll see!" Brittany said, pausing for a second to stretch. "So, Brigid and Wystalia pack up their things and head back to their camp..."


	7. The Medallion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid returns to the elf mound and then meets a wise woman to find out the secret of the medallion.

Wystalia was quiet when she joined Brigid outside of the cavern. Without saying a word, she started picking up her clothes and armor and putting it on. While she was doing that, there was a huge roar, the kind of sound Brigid remembered hearing from the other cavern, but a lot louder and closer.

"Are we all done," Brigid asked. Wystalia looked at her for a moment before pulling on the straps of her breast plate and tightening them.

"Yes," Wystalia.

"What's next?" Brigid asked.

"Back to camp and then in the morning we can head back to the mound," she said.

"What about the medallion?" Brigid asked. "Didn't you want to do something with it?"

"An old friend of mine knows a little about human magic," Wystalia said. "She should see it before you leave, to make sure it's safe."

"Before we go to the mound?" Brigid asked.

"No, you need to show your treasure to the Queen the way it was when you found it," she said.

"She's not going to take it away, is she?" Brigid asked.

"No, it's yours," Wystalia said. "You've earned it."

Brigid smiled, rubbing the warm medallion still nestled between her breasts.

* * *

The camp routine was the same but with a lot less tension and teasing. The short trip back to camp from the cavern hadn't improved Wystalia's mood. Brigid wasn't sure how to help her. The last dragon kin had obviously meant something to her.

Wystalia once more stripped down to her shift. Reaching into her pack, she pulled out a large green flask. Pulling out the cork, she took a long drink before handing it to Brigid.

"What's this?" Brigid asked, holding it carefully.

"Pure elixir," she said. "I think you earned it."

"Is it safe?" Brigid asked.

"The potion is still working?" Wystalia asked.

Brigid frowned. She'd gotten used to the way the potion had made her hearing, nose, and strength much better than before. "It feels like it," she said.

"Good," Wystalia said. "Drink up."

Brigid sniffed the flask, remembering how she'd felt the last time she drank some, though it had contained some of the potion in it. She cautiously took a sip. It didn't burn as it went down, unlike the last time, so she took a larger gulp before handing the flask back to Wystalia. 

The only way to describe the feeling was warm. Everywhere. And, as she sat there, the campsite seemed to take on a golden glow. "Why is everything glowing?" she asked.

"That's the elixir," Wystalia said. "If you drink enough, the glow changes color."

"What do you mean?" Brigid asked, "and how much is enough?"

"Different objects have different colors or shades," Wystalia said. "If I look at your weapons, they have a red glow. But you have a golden glow." She nodded to herself. "The first time you drink pure elixir, everything seems to glow the same color. The more you drink, the more you can see the other colors. And every time you drink elixir it gets better."

"Oh," Brigid said, frowning in thought. 

* * *

Brigid could see her breath, leaving the tent the next morning. Shivering, she quickly scrambled to put on her clothes, not remembering removing them the night before. That seemed to happen to her a lot when Wystalia shared one of her potions or brews.

Stomping her feet, trying to warm her boots, she looked up at the blue sky.

"Looks like a nice day," her companion said.

"How far are we from the mound?" Brigid asked, thinking about their journey to get where they were.

"We can be there around midday," Wystalia said. "It's closer to here than the witch's castle was."

"Do you think I should go to the dwarves?" she asked. "You said there were wyrms in their mountains."

"They won't pay you," Wystalia said, pausing while putting on her armor. "But they might reward you with a share of the wyrm's treasure."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Brigid asked.

"No," Wystalia said. "A reward is better but you won't know how much you'll get from them. Why would you hunt the wyrms," she asked. Finished putting on her armor, she started packing up their campsite.

"For the excitement? Because I want to be a hunter like my father? Because I've been training for this since I was ten summers old?" Brigit said.

"Not a dragon hunter?" Wystalia asked, looking at her grimly.

"After seeing what the witch did to the dragon kin?" Brigid shook her head. "I think I'll still call myself a dragon hunter. It sounds much better than wyrm hunter. But no one will know that I'm hunting wyrms, not dragons."

"No one will know," Wystalia said. "But what you did for the dragon kin does not give you the right to hunt other dragon kin."

"No," Brigid said, nodding in agreement.

"Good," Wystalia said. "We'll complete your business with the queen and then you are free to pursue your own plans."

"Adventure and glory," Brigid said with a giggle.

"Humans have such a strange idea of what adventure is," Wystalia said. "Wouldn't you rather go dropping with me?"

"Dropping?" Brigid asked, confused.

"Dropping," she said. "Just like we did at the cavern. Jumping off the highest cliff."

"Uhm… not today," Brigid said. "And didn't you say the fall would have killed me if I hadn't taken your potion?"

"Has it worn off yet?" Wystalia asked.

"Not yet," Brigid admitted.

"You must be one of the lucky ones," she said. "There is a tale, an ancient tale, of a human who was given the potion and it never wore off."

"I might always be like this?" Brigid asked. "With everything bright and loud?"

"You don't want to be as strong as an elf?" Wystalia said.

"I don't know," Brigid said.

"It might still wear off, eventually," Wystalia. "Just because it hasn't yet, doesn't mean it won't."

"When will I know?" Brigid asked.

"We will ask my friend," she said. "When we go see her about your medallion."

* * *

This time, the journey into the mound wasn't as scary. As she followed Wystalia, Brigid noticed that the passageway wasn't as plain as she'd thought. The walls were covered in scenes of battle and celebration. "What are these," she asked. "Why couldn't I see them before?"

"Our history," Wystalia said. "Only those with elf sight can see them. You can see them because of the potion."

"Oh," Brigid said.

They stepped into the chamber. Unlike last time, it was empty, except for the guards and the queen. Even the king was missing.

"It is done?" the queen asked, without preamble.

"Yes, my queen," Wystalia said, her expression solemn. "The kin have been released from the witch's curse."

The queen nodded. She looked at Brigid for a long, drawn out moment. "You have our thanks," she said to Brigid. "And our leave to travel within our realm, in obedience of our laws, for you and all your distaff descendants."

"Thanks you, your majesty," Brigid said, awkwardly bowing.

"And the witch's possessions?" the queen asked Wystalia.

"Destroyed, as requested," she said.

"And?" she looked back at Brigid. Brigid reached into her blouse and pulled out the medallion, hold it out to her. The queen looked at it closely but didn't touch it. "I see. Her greatest treasure. As I suspected."

"You know what it is, ma'am?" Brigid asked.

"Take it to Apolia's friend. You will find it enlightening," she said, smirking. Rising, she silently left the chamber.

Brigid looked at Wystalia, bewildered.

"She was unexpectedly wordy," Wystalia said. "Looks like we have another journey to make together." Nodding to the guards, she turned, taking Brigid's arm.

* * *

They rode for the entire afternoon, stopping only once. Near dusk, they came to a forest. The trees were unlike anything Brigid had seen before. They towered over the landscape.

"We once lived in cities in the forests," Wystalia said. "Before humans came north. Some of us still live in the trees."

"Your friend?" Brigid asked.

"Friend is an inadequate word, a human word, to describe her. We've known each other longer than your people have worshipped your gods. Your Odin was just a dream of power when we first met. She showed me there was life beyond being a princess. That when it was time to change there were other options."

"So, Apolia wasn't what you wanted to do with your life?" Brigid asked.

"That isn't something any elf would want to do," Wystalia said, as they stopped under a large tee.

"Tell the truth, princess!" a musical voice shouted down at them.

"I always tell the truth," Wystalia said.

"Ha!" the voice said. "And you call yourself an elf!"

"Come down here and say that," Wystalia said.

There was a rustling in the branches above them. Before Brigid could find out where it was coming from, there was a light thump and a short elf was standing next to them.

"Introduce me to your little human," the elf said.

"I'm not her human," Brigid said, grumbling. "And I'm taller than you."

"Feisty," the elf said.

Wystalia shook her head. "Sylia, this is the renowned wyrm hunter, Brigid."

"Wyrm hunter? Why would anyone want to hunt those pests?" she asked.

"Humans think they are dragons," Wystalia said. "Apparently it takes a lot of skill to kill one and steal its hoard."

"Ah, humans, always doing things for shiny objects," Sylia said. "What brings you to my humble garden?"

"Brigid dealt with the witch and the cursed kin," she said.

"That must have been exciting," Sylia said. "There hasn't been a real human witch around here in ages. Did you bring me any human magic to play with?"

"Play? Not today. But we do have several questions," Wystalia said, "that you might be able to answer."

"Go ahead," Sylia said, sitting down on a stump.

"I gave Brigid the xanzith potion," Wystalia said.

"The strength increasing potion?" Sylia asked. "Or the one that gives elf aspects to the drinker?"

"The second one," she said. "She needed it to defeat the witch."

"It's a simple potion. If you have questions about it, it must not have worn off," Sylia said.

"Not as far as we can tell," Wystalia said.

"Are you sure your little friend wasn't already like that? Or maybe she has some elf in her and the potion activated it?" Sylia asked. "She is tall for a human female."

Wystalia turned to Brigid. "Is that possible?"

"I wasn't like this until you gave me that potion," Brigid protested. "And how would I have elf in me?"

"Do you know why you are so tall?" Sylia asked.

"My father is tall, and so is his father," Brigid said. "My brother is going to be tall."

"Exactly," Sylia said. "It's in your family. Every time someone tall, like your father, has children, they will most likely also be tall. If they have children with someone who is tall, the children will be even taller."

"But you're shorter than Wystalia," Brigid said. "Aren't all elves taller?"

"She was dropped on her head one time too many as a child," Wystalia said. "It stopped her growing," she added with a laugh.

"You did the dropping, princess," Sylia said, poking her.

"You knew her when she was a princess?" Brigid said, curious.

"I was Apolia to her mother," Sylia said. "I trained her when she needed something to do when her older sister became queen. I think I did a fine job."

"What is that saying you stole from that human wise man?" Wystalia said.

"The student has surpassed the master," Sylia said. "Though I'm thinking of taking that back now, if this is evidence of your current successes. And you can sit here in the trees and think about impossible things."

"I am Apolia," Wystalia said. "Only I can designate my successor."

"Her?" Sylia said, frowning.

"Of course not, she's not an elf," Wystalia said.

"She could pass for one," Sylia said, smirking. "She just needs her ears trimmed. They're a little too round for a real elf."

"What about the potion?" Brigid said, trying to get them back to the important topic. "How would I get some elf in me so that it turns me into one?"

"It isn't possible," Sylia said. "Humans and elves do not breed true. But if they did, all you would need is an ancestor who was an elf. I'm not sure how far back you would have to go before the potion wouldn't have that effect."

"What do you mean 'far back'," Brigid asked.

"How many generations," Sylia said. "If your great-great-great-great grandfather, I believe that is the human term, was an elf, would you become one if you drank the potion?"

"But it isn't possible," Wystalia said. "So why hasn't it worn off?"

"She's human," Sylia said. "There are multitudes of them. There could be other reasons I'm not aware of. Some family trait that works with the potion."

"It isn't going to kill me, is it?" Brigid asked.

"Not unless you run into some person who takes a dislike to you because of your new abilities," Sylia said. "Human priests seem to see such things as an insult to their gods. So I would not tell anyone about this."

"What if Thor asks why I've suddenly become so strong?" Brigid asked.

"Thor? What does one of the human god kin have to do with you?" Sylia asked in surprise.

"He's my mother's grandfather," Brigid said. "He drops in to visit her and finds testing my weapons skills amusing." She didn't tell them how humiliating she found being tested by a god she couldn't beat was. And his idea of a joke was even more so.

"Why didn't you mention that?" Sylia said, turning back to Wystalia.

"She didn't tell me," she said. "But I should have guessed she wasn't an ordinary human."

"What do you mean?" Brigid asked her. She thought she was perfectly ordinary, for a dragon hunter.

"Other than your height?" Wystalia said. "You don't worship that new god, the one you call the Carpenter. You want to be a true hunter. And you have a sense of honor and duty most humans seem to have forgotten when dealing with the kin."

"Honor in humans?" Sylia laughed. "Next you'll tell me you took her dropping and she wanted to do it again."

"No," Wystalia said, "she didn't like it."

"But she did it," Sylia said.

"Yes," Wystalia said. "It was the quickest way to leave the chamber of the eldest cursed dragon kin before it was entombed."

"There are other ways to entomb kin," Sylia said. "You just like using that spell." Wystalia just shrugged. "But we now have our explanation," she said, nodding to herself.

"Thor?" Brigid asked.

"The god kin are close to elf kin," Sylia said. "But, unlike the elf kin, they exist only because humans believe in them. They all disappear eventually, when their followers stop worshipping them."

"What about me?" Brigid asked. "Will I disappear also?"

"Only if you get your own worshippers," Sylia said. "So, my advice to you? Don't start your own religion!"

"Wasn't planning to," Brigid said.

"So, one mystery solved," Sylia said. "What is the other one?"

"The queen gave Brigid the witch's greatest treasure as part of her reward for helping the cursed dragon kin," Wystalia said. "It seems to be human magic. The queen said you could tell Brigid if it is dangerous."

"I don't need to travel to it do I?" Sylia asked. "Let's see it then," she said when they both shook their heads.

Reaching into her inner blouse, Brigid pulled out the medallion. Carefully reaching behind her back she lifted its chain from around her neck.

"Interesting," Sylia said, taking it from her. "Isn't it uncomfortable worn like that?" 

"No, it's warm," Brigid said.

"Must be the human magic it is steeped in," Sylia said. "It feels ice cold to me."

"It felt that way to me also," Wystalia said. "If I wore it like that I would have had frostbite."

"Not where I would want that unless you had someone to warm you up," Sylia said, smirking. "Like your half-elf godling there," she added.

"What is it?" Brigid asked, ignoring the comment, though she did wonder if Sylia was the one who'd taught Wystalia to make such comments.

"The witch's heart. It's the seat of her power," Sylia said. "Very dark magic. She must not have been wearing it when you fought her, is my guess."

"No, it was locked up in a chest," Brigid said. "What does that mean?"

"If she'd been wearing or holding it, she would have been invulnerable," Sylia said. "It's concentrated power."

"And the queen let me have it?" Brigid said, not quite believing it.

"Are you a witch?" Sylia asked.

"No!" Brigid said.

"Then you can't use it," Sylia said. "And no elf would dare use it, it's tainted with dark human magic."

"So what should I do with it?" Brigid asked.

"Keep yourself warm on cold nights?" Sylia suggested.

"Is it useful for anything else?" Wystalia asked. "Will it protect her from magic or bad luck or something?"

"It might," Sylia said, "but I can't tell you. She'll have to discover that for herself."

"Should I hide it? Or destroy it?" Brigid asked. 

"Why would you want to do that?" Sylia said.

"So a witch doesn't get it and use it," Brigid said, as if the answer were obvious.

"I see what you mean about noble," Sylia said to Wystalia. "Any other human would have run off looking for a witch to sell it to. Or force them to do their bidding."

Wystalia nodded, hugging Brigid. "And she's cute too," she said.

"I know that tone of voice," Sylia said, smirking. "So you've sampled?"

"No, but I was tempted," Wystalia said.

"Sample what?" Brigid asked, blushing, suspecting they were talking about her.

"It's not important," Sylia said, standing up. "Do you really want to destroy it?"

"Yes."

"It's human magic, so it's best if you do it," Sylia said. "Come along." Handing the medallion back to Brigid, she grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the base of the tree. Tapping the tree in a discordant rhythm, she paused for a moment. Brigid couldn't suppress her gasp when a series of small handholds appeared in the trunk.

She watched Sylia quickly climb until she disappeared into the leaf covered branches.

"Put that back on and follow her," Wystalia said. Nodding, Brigid followed her orders.

* * *

Reaching the top, Brigid discovered that hidden among the high branches was a large hut made out of a lighter wood that seemed to be woven into the tree's branches. Pulling herself up, she entered the hut. It appeared to be larger on the inside than the outside, with several doors leading elsewhere.

"We'll do it in here," Sylia said, directing Brigid, and Wystalia, who'd entered behind her, into a side room. "Put the medallion right there." She pointed at a large, bare circle of flat stone in the middle of the room. As soon as Brigid put the medallion down, Sylia handed her a small piece of charcoal.

"What do I do with this?" Brigid asked.

"A little bit of magic," she said.

"I don't know how to do magic," Brigid said.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you what to do," Sylia said.

"Why can't you do it?" Brigid said.

"Human magic," Sylia said, pointing at the medallion. She then pointed at Brigid. "Human. You must do it if you really want to destroy this. I could do it but this is our only chance. We can only do this once. It is possible it won't be destroyed if I use elf magic."

"What do I do?" Brigid asked, studying the charcoal for some clue.

"First you need to place a spell of protection around the medallion. If the medallion explodes or turns into something dangerous, we don't really want to die."

"How?" Brigid asked.

"Draw a large circle around the medallion, leaving at least three hand-width's between it and the edge of the stone," Sylia said. "There must be no break in the circle."

Brigid nodded. Getting down on her hands and knees, she began drawing the circle. It looked like a simple task but she had to stop several times and stretch the kinks out of her shoulders. For good measure, she drew the circle three times.

"Good. Now, on the inside of the circle you need to draw the spell that will break the magic holding the medallion in that shape," Sylia said.

"What?" Brigid said, not understanding what she meant.

"The medallion is just the outer form of the witch's heart. It needs to be taken apart." Taking a slate, she started writing on it.

"What is that?" Brigid asked.

"The spell," Sylia said, handing her the slate. "You'll need to copy this exactly."

"This could take some time," Brigid said glumly, staring at it.

"We have all the time in the world," Sylia said.

"You do," Brigid said. "I'm human."

"You have the blood of a god in you," Wystalia said. "The potion will keep you alive for a long time, unless you do something foolish like getting killed by a wyrm."

Busily copying the scribbles Sylia had called writing, Brigid just nodded. Before she was done, she was covered from head to foot in black soot from the charcoal.

"You should have taken off your clothes first," Sylia said, once she finished. "Much easier to wash skin than clothes."

"You just want her to be naked," Wystalia said, grumbling.

"Of course," she said. "I'd like to see what the fuss is about this one," she said poking Brigid.

"Hey!" Brigid said. "I don't strip for just anyone, especially not short poky elves."

Wystalia shook her head. "Now what does she need to do?" she asked.

"It's like a trap," Sylia said. "Now it needs a trigger to set it off."

"What kind of trigger?" Wystalia said.

"For this? Blood would work best." Sylia said.

"How much blood?" Brigid asked.

"Not as much as was used to make this," she said.

"It was made with blood?" Wystalia said. "Whose?"

"It's possible we'll find out when the medallion is destroyed," Sylia said, "but that is very unlikely. If I had to guess..."

"You? Guess?" Wystalia bowed mockingly at her. "The great wise-woman of the trees doesn't just know something the queen knew just by looking at it?"

"The queen has elf sight," Sylia said, grumbling. "She can see beyond simple charms."

"Jealous?" Wystalia asked.

"No," she said bluntly. "That would be like being jealous of the wind."

"What do you think it is?" Brigid asked, hushing Wystalia with a glare.

"This kind of object requires a sacrifice of something dear to the witch," Sylia said. "Do we know who she was? Or even her name?"

"No," said Wystalia. "She was a witch who dared curse the dragon kin. What more did we need to know?"

"I didn't know there was a witch until Wystalia took me to the mound," Brigid said. "All I know is that she was human."

"That kind of witch isn't really human," Sylia said. "Much like you aren't really human anymore after drinking that potion."

"Are all witches evil like that one?" Brigid asked. "I didn't know there were real witches."

"I can't say," Sylia said. "I've met very few human witches."

"No," Wystalia said. "You humans call any woman with magical or healing powers a witch. But most are not like this one. There is an elvish word for evil magic user but I've never heard the human version."

"Oh," Brigid said. She decided to ask her mother later, assuming she survived this. "How much blood," she asked again.

"More than a drop," Sylia said. "Use this." She handed a small bowl and small blade to Brigid.

Grimacing, Brigid braced herself and cut her palm deep enough to bleed, but not deep enough to drain her blood out. Holding her hand above the bowl, she watched her blood drip into it. 

"That'll be enough," Sylia said. "Wys, help her with that, we don't want any stray drops interfering with this spell."

Nodding, Wystalia helped Brigid bandage her hand. "It should heal quickly," she said, "but let's make sure."

Brigid nodded in agreement. The cut had stung but not as much as she'd assumed it would. She really didn't want anything to happen to her hand just because she could now heal so easily.

"What do we do next?" she asked Sylia, watching her say something in elvish while hold the bowl of Brigid's blood. Steam rose from the bowl for a moment.

"Sprinkle your blood on the medallion while reciting the spell," Sylia told her, tilting the bowl so she could see a dark powder.

"Reciting the spell? I don't know how to read elvish," she said.

"Kids these days," Sylia muttered. "I'll read it for you and you can repeat what I say. Once you get it right, we'll do it for real. Understood?"

"Yes," Brigid said.

"We might as well get comfortable," she said, pointing towards the door. "This could take some time."

* * *

"That sounds correct now," Sylia said, after leading Brigid through the spell several times. "Are you ready?"

"I think so," Brigid said, following her back into the room.

"You need to be confident," Sylia told her. "The magic will channel through you better if you believe in what you are doing. And that is important in a case like this."

"I can do this," Brigid told them, after taking a deep breath.

"Better," Wystalia said. "I'll just wait over here," she added, gripping her sword in both hands, in a pose Brigid recognized from watching the troopers at the fort when the captain inspected them.

"What's going to happen," Brigid asked.

"It could be nothing," Sylia said, handing the bowl of dried blood to her. "Or it could get very messy."

"Can I start?" Brigid asked.

"When you are ready," Sylia said.

Brigid nodded. Taking a pinch of her own blood, she sprinkled it on the medallion. As soon as it settled, she started reciting the spell. When Sylia had said it earlier it had been very musical, with the meaning just out of reach. Now, it seemed very harsh and metallic as she spoke it, even though Sylia had assured her that she was saying it correctly.

The medallion had begun to glow once she finished the first phrase of the spell. By the end of the second phrase, a swirling mass of lights hung over the medallion. By the fourth phrase, a myst had formed at the center of the lights. Reaching the final phrase, Brigid put as much energy as she could into her voice. And nothing changed. The myst continued to occupy the center of the lights.

"Well, that was interesting," Sylia said, standing next to an exhausted Brigid.

"Shouldn't something have happened by now?" Brigid asked her.

"Give it time," she said. "We don't know what was used by the witch to build the medallion, other than the blood of someone she thought was valuable. The magic will do its job. At least we know what it isn't."

"What do you mean," Brigid asked. "You understand what is happening?"

"The spell is sifting through the heart of the medallion, looking for the thing that holds it together. When it finds that, it will use it to take the medallion apart," Sylia said.

"What'll happen then?" Brigid asked.

"A big pile of the things used to make the medallion should replace it," Sylia said.

"Go and take her to eat something," Wystalia said. "I'll stand guard."

Nodding in thanks, Brigid followed Sylia out of the chamber and back into the main tree hut.

* * *

"Sylia! Brigid!" Wystalia shouted, breaking their companionable silence.

"Something must have happened," Sylia said, standing and putting the remains of their quick meal away.

Entering the chamber, they could see that the myst and lights had disappeared, leaving behind a solid, chalky lump in the circle.

"What is it?" Brigid asked.

"I don't know," Sylia said, carefully stepping into the circle. Tapping the lump, she frowned. "There is something in it, but it isn't solid. Wys, give me your sword."

Taking the sword, she lightly tapped the lump with the haft, causing the sword to ring. Using a little more force, she focused on one side of the lump. On the tenth tap, there was a cracking sound. Hitting the same spot again, a large chunk fell off.

"Well, there is definitely something inside there," Sylia said, pointing at something that glistened wetly where the chalky material had been. Touching the thing, she grimaced. "Skin?"

Wystalia joined her, grabbing one of the exposed edges and pulling. With another cracking sound, another, larger, piece broke off. Grabbing another edge, she pulled again. "Looks like a shoulder," she muttered. "And a head," she added, uncovering more.

"Right, grab a corner," Sylia said to Brigid. "The sooner we remove this shell, the better it will be for whatever is inside it."

Working quickly, the three women removed the chalky shell to reveal a short woman, covered in a red sticky substance.

"Is she alive?" Brigid asked, watching Sylia clean the woman's face.

"Possibly," Sylia said. "Wys, get me a water flask. There's one in the kitchen."

Wystalia nodded, leaving the room. She quickly returned, and handed the flask to Sylia, who started rinsing off the woman's face, being extra thorough to clean her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. "Her heart isn't beating," Sylia muttered, after pressing her ear to a clean spot on the woman's chest. "You can still do that lightening trick, Wys?"

"Yes," she said.

"Shock her, please," Sylia said. "We need to wake her up."

"Lightning?" Brigid asked.

"Can't explain it," Sylia said. "That's the wise woman two trees over. I just know it works sometimes if someone's heart stops like this."

"Step back," Wystalia said. "It hurts if you get hit by it."

Brigid followed Sylia to the edge of the room, leaving Wystalia standing next to the gunk covered woman. She stood there for a long moment, then began speaking elvish.

"I really need to learn that," Brigid said.

"Magic?" Sylia asked, while they watched.

"No, magic seems too dangerous. I think I need to learn to speak your language," she said. "I don't know what she is saying."

"It isn't hard. If an elf can learn your language, better than most humans, you can learn ours," Sylia said. "I'm sure if you ask nicely, Wys would teach you. She actually likes you."

"Why wouldn't she like me," Brigid asked.

"You're human? And beautiful, for a human?" Sylia said.

"I don't understand," Brigid said, frowning.

"You don't need to," she said. "This is the exciting part," she said, pointing at Wystalia. Sparks were starting to come off of her fingers, growing longer, reaching for the woman in the circle. There was a snapping sound and an odd smell, and the woman sat up with a gasp, breathing air in in gigantic gulps before falling back down and coughing uncontrollably.

* * *

Who is it?" Rachel asked. "Who was in the medallion?"

You'll find out tomorrow," Brittany said.

"You're leaving us with a cliffhanger?" Quinn said. "That's evil!"

"Calm your tits," Santana said. "It won't kill you."

"It'll make tomorrow go faster," Willow said.

"It's Brit's story," Santana said, glaring at Quinn. "She can stop there if she wants to. Come on, babe." She held out her hand to Brittany.


	8. The Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid heads home with a plus-one she hadn't been planning on.

Brittany watched the others as they settled down around the bonfire for the night's story. She covered her mouth to hide her giggle at the sight of Rachel Berry vibrating in excitement.

"We find out who was in the medallion tonight, right?" Rachel asked, escaping from Quinn's grasp as she tried to pull Rachel down onto her log.

"She told us yesterday that she would," Quinn said, wrapping her arms around Rachel and forcing her to sit.

"Quinn!" Rachel said, protesting the manhandling and trying to get back up.

"Stay down, Shorty," Santana said. "Brit isn't going to start until you do."

* * *

The crying woman couldn't have been much older than her, Brigid decided. She cried as they carefully washed the red substance and chalky powder off of her body. She cried as they dressed her in a soft robe and put her to bed in Sylia's spare bedchamber. Brigid suspected she kept crying in her sleep.

"Why won't she stop?" Brigid asked, as she helped Wystalia clean up the mess made by the spell, while Sylvia kept an eye on the crying woman.

"Tears are caused by emotion," Wystalia said. "We don't know how long she was in the medallion. It could have been a moon, or several seasons, or longer. We don't know what it was like inside the medallion. But being set free? She is now feeling something."

"Who do you think she is?" Brigid asked, giving the floor one last wipe. Standing up, she followed Wystalia out into the main chamber. They joined Sylia, sitting on cushions in one corner.

"I believe she was someone important to the witch," Sylia said. "The sacrifice of a female family member is powerful magic."

"Did she tell you her name?" Wystalia asked, leaning back into the pile of pillows and cushions.

"No, she hasn't spoken yet," Sylia said.

"Magdalena Anna Ingrid Gretchen Haroldsdottir," a soft voice announced from across the chamber. Looking over, Brigid noticed the medallion woman leaning against the bedchamber door. Tears were still flowing from her eyes.

"Don't you have a king with that name?" Wystalia said, as Sylia rose and gently guided the woman over to the pile of pillows.

"Yes," Brigid said. "My father's cousin, King Harold."

"My father," the woman said, sniffling, burying herself in Sylia's side.

"Well, looks like you rescued the princess after all," Wystalia said. "Maybe your king will reward you," she said.

"Not any reward I would want," Brigid said, shaking her head. "I have no use for a princess for a wife."

"If you were an elf you wouldn't have a choice," Sylia said. "You rescued her from a fate worse than death, if the constant waterworks are any sign. She'd be a member of your household and your responsibility for the rest of her life."

"That sounds backwards," Brigid said, frowning. "Wouldn't it be the other way around?"

"No," Wystalia said, giving Brigid the look she'd learned to recognize as 'it's an elf thing'.

"It will take several days for her to recover from the experience," Sylia said.

"You're my cousin Brigid?" the teary eyed woman exclaimed, in excitement. "You came to rescue me?"

"Maybe?" Brigid said. Reacting to the look Wystalia gave her, she added "I thought you were dead. It looked like you'd been eaten by a wyrm."

"I saw dragons," the princess said, looking around. "And my old nurse."

"Nurse?" Brigid asked.

"Auld raised me when my mother died," she said. "The Bishop told my father to get rid of her. He said she was evil."

"The witch?" Wystalia guessed, speaking softly so that only Brigid and Sylia heard her. "That would explain a number of things."

"What happened to Auld?" the princess asked. "She was going to show me something, and then I saw the dragons. And then I was here."

"Definitely the witch," Sylia said.

"Witch?" the princess asked.

"That wasn't your Auld," Wystalia said, squeezing Brigid's arm to signal silence. "We believe a witch pretended to be your old nurse. She cursed two dragon kin and imprisoned you with a curse in a magical medallion."

"Dragon kin?" the princess said, looking at Brigid for an explanation.

"Dragon kin are related to the elves," she said, waving at Sylia and Wystalia. "What we call dragons, they call wyrms. True dragons are very different. Very smart and more dangerous, and powerful. Wyrms are pests that hoard dwarf gold. Right?" Brigid looked at Wystalia to confirm her description.

"Close enough," Wystalia said, nodding in amusement.

"Elves?" the princess asked. "Elves are real?"

You're talking to elves," Brigid said. "You can tell by their ears."

"Elves?" Magdalena said again.

"Elves," Sylia echoed, hugging the princess. "But there is more to us than our ears."

"Some of them are tall," Brigid said, ducking. "And prefer to sleep without any night clothes."

"You didn't object," Wystalia said, "too much."

Sylia shook her head. "Wys and Brigid like teasing each other," she told the princess. "Aren't they cute together?"

The princess frowned at them. "When can we go home?" she asked, getting to her feet.

"It's a long trip back to the fort," Brigid said. "We just released you from the medallion."

"I'm fine," she said, stumbling as she stepped away from the corner.

"In the morning," Sylia said. "You need to rest. You're barely standing." Getting up, she picked up the princess. "Let me take you back to bed."

* * *

"You'll take her back to her father?" Wystalia asked.

"Yes. And then I'll go to the dwarves and deal with the wyrms," she said. "If you could pass the word to them that I will be there before the next moon?"

"If you are sure you want to pursue this path," Wystalia said.

"It is not that I want to," Brigid said, "but someone needs to take care of them before they move south."

"The glory won't hurt either," Wystalia said. "I know it is not your primary concern," she said before Brigid could protest. "But you must be honest with us."

"I've never had any glory," Brigid admitted. "I would like to know what it is like, just once."

"And you will, if only from rescuing your princess," Wystalia said.

"She's not mine," Brigid said. "I don't think the king would really want his daughter marrying her cousin without issue."

"You don't know that," Wystalia said.

"Come, off to bed," Wystalia said. "You'll need all the sleep you can get if you are taking the princess back."

* * *

Brigid watched as Sylia carefully guided the princess down from her tree, the short elf towering over her. Being among the tall elves, Brigid had forgotten that ordinary, human women were shorter. The princess was at least a head shorter than all of them.

Wystalia would escort them to the edge of the realm, after which they would be on foot. Brigid expected the two day journey to take five, unless the princess recovered rapidly, which, from her grey color as she reached the bottom of the tree, was unlikely.

Even though she didn't know much about magic, Wystalia had insisted that Brigid take the tent and had taught her the few words of elvish that caused it to expand. She wasn't sure how the princess was going to react. She certainly wasn't going to follow Wystalia's example for bed clothes.

She waited semi-patiently for Sylia to bring the princess over to her nag mora. They wouldn't be able to take the beast beyond the edges of the realm but Wystalia's escort would save them several days travel.

"What is that?" the princess asked.

"A nag mora," Brigid said, reaching over, to help her up.

"It's not a horse," the princess said, giving Brigid a wide eyed look.

"Don't worry princess, it won't bite, much," Wystalia said. "It doesn't have much taste for royalty."

"Bite?" the princess said, recoiling.

"You aren't helping, Wys," Sylia said. "Just ignore her and stick close to your Brigid," she told the princess.

"You're safe," Brigid added, gripping her firmly, her chin brushing against the princess's head.

* * *

There wasn't an obvious line marking the end of the Dark Elf realm and the human lands, but Brigid's nag mora refused to go beyond a certain point on the track south. Dismounting, she helped the princess to the ground and over next to a large rock.

"I'll leave you here," Wystalia told them. "I'll see you again in a moon or so?" she asked Brigid.

"A moon," Brigid said, nodding, removing her pack, her spear, and the pack Sylia had put together for the princess, from the nag mora. Gently pulling the princess back, she waved at Wystalia in salute as the elf rode away.

"Sit," she said, pointing at the rock.

"Why," asked the princess.

"I need to cut you a walking staff," Brigid said, "Princess."

"Why won't you use my name?" she asked, hopping up on the rock. "You use the name of your elf friend, and according to her friend, she's an important person in the Dark Elf realm."

"You're the princess," Brigid said, puzzled. "It would be disrespectful to call you anything else. Wystalia preferred that I use her name."

"I have a name also," the princess said. "You're my cousin, I think you can use it. Call me Magda."

"If you wish," Brigid said. "Stay here," she added. Stepping off the road, Brigid headed towards a stand of trees she'd spotted when they stopped. Taking out her knife, she cut down a small sapling. Stripping off its leaves and bark, she returned to the princess. Eyeing her, she carefully trimmed the length to just above her shoulder. "Try that," she said.

The princess took the new staff. "It's slippery," she complained, tapping it against the ground. Dropping it, she wiped her hand against her overcoat, her face scrunched up in disgust.

Shaking her head, Brigid picked up the green staff and leaned it against the rock, next to the princess. Looking around, she spotted an exposed outcropping of sandstone several paces away. "Stay here," she said again. Going to the outcropping, she picked up several hand sized stones and brought them back to where the princess sat. Returning to the stand of trees, she picked up several pieces of the bark she'd removed earlier and went back to the princess. Taking out a small cloth from her pack, she started rubbing the two stones together over the cloth.

"What are you doing?" the princess asked. Brigid frowned at her for a moment before going back to her task. "Well?"

"If you're patient, I'll show you," Brigid said. She continued rubbing the rocks together, until she had a handful of sand on the cloth. Picking up one of the pieces of bark, she sprinkled a handful of the sand on the inside curve. Taking the staff, she placed it back in the bark, against the sand, and started rubbing it.

"What does that do?" the princess asked, frowning.

Brigid rubbed the staff for half its length until it started to look dull. Taking out another cloth, she polished the staff where she'd rubbed it with the sand. "There," she said, handing the staff to the princess. "It isn't slippery."

Magda took it and ran her hand along the staff. Nodding, she stood up. "Well?" she said. "Let's get going. It will be dark soon."

Brigid shook her head. Taking the cloth, she returned the rocks and sand to the sandstone outcropping. Looking at her cousin, and at the two packs, she shook her head again. As much as she was tempted, she wasn't going to make her carry her own pack just yet. Fortunately, the princess's pack was very light. Putting her pack over one shoulder, she then swung the other pack over the other.

"Follow me," she said.

* * *

They stopped just as the sun started to go down, several leagues later. The princess had been doing better than Brigid expected, but she was just barely keeping to the slow pace Brigid set. Looking around, Brigid spotted a sheltered clearing, off the dirt track.

"We'll set up camp over there," she said, pointing at the clearing.

"Where?" the princess asked. "There's nothing there."

"What were you expecting?" Brigid asked, frowning at her.

"An inn or tavern?" the princess asked. "Or even a farm?"

"Magda, we're on the northern border of your father's kingdom," Brigid said. "It's all wilderness between here and the fort."

"Oh," the princess said. "Don't you live out here?"

"My father's compound is west of the fort," Brigid said. "That's a long way from here."

"We aren't going to stop there on the way to the fort?" Magda asked, frowning in disappointment.

"It isn't on our way," Brigid said. "Why did you think we would go there?"

"The short elf," Magda said.

"What did Sylia say?" Brigid asked, dreading the answer. The elf had hinted at something happening with the princess but had been extremely vague.

"That I would meet your mother and your brother," the princess said.

"Did she say when?" Brigid asked. There wasn't any reason she could think of for the princess to meet her mother at their compound.

"Soon," the princess said.

Brigid nodded. She didn't think her mother would want to travel to the fort or the palace without a good reason, but she wasn't going to argue with a princess. Or a relative.

"Where will we sleep?" Magda asked, following Brigid into the small clearing.

"Fire there," Brigid said, pointing at an old fire pit. "We'll put the tent over there." She pointed off to one side.

"Um… what about…" Magda asked, blushing and waving vaguely.

"Pick a bush," Brigid said, waving. "But not too close to camp."

"Bush?" Magda squeaked.

"I'm sure you can figure out what to do," Brigid said, not really paying attention to Magda as she took out the tent and placed it on the ground. Concentrating, she carefully recited the elvish Wystalia had taught her to expand it. It grew to full size with a satisfying pop. Hearing a squeak, she turned around to see a surprised princess returning from a quick trip into the bushes.

"How did you do that," Magda asked, joining her in front of the tent.

"A little elvish magic Wystalia taught me," Brigid said.

"Does it work on anything?" Magda asked, clearly curious.

"No, just the tent," she said. "And it can only do that for ten more nights before it stops working," Brigid added the warning, hoping to squash the possessive gleam in the princess's eye.

"How many nights are left?" Magda asked.

"Enough to get us to the fort," Brigid said.

"What happens to it then?" she asked. "Does it disappear? Or stay that way?"

"I didn't ask," Brigid admitted. "When I'm traveling alone I don't really need a tent."

"Where do you sleep?" the princess asked.

"On the ground, with a blanket," Brigid said.

"That sounds uncomfortable," Magda said, shivering.

"Cold?" Brigit asked.

"A little," she said, nodding.

"Go in and lay down," Brigid said, pointing at the tent. "It'll keep you warm. I'll get a fire going and we can eat."

* * *

"There it is," Brigid said, pointing across the plain at the fort. It had been a slow, five day trip from the Dark Elf realm. Each day Magda was able to travel a little farther before exhaustion set in. The constant stream of questions from the princess had made the time pass quickly, though Brigid spent most of the time avoiding answering the more personal ones. And arguing with her.

"Real food," Magda said. "No more of that elf bread."

"I like the elf bread," Brigid said.

"You aren't a princess," Magda said. "You are obviously not used to the better things in life like I am."

"Dinners with boring, important people. Having to live in a castle, and not be able to do whatever I want?" Brigid said. "Why would I want to have that?"

"You don't like dressing up," Magda stated.

"No," Brigid said.

* * *

They reached the gate early in the evening, just before sundown. Brigid knocked on the side door several times before it was opened.

"You're back!" Lars said, grinning at her in delight, and gesturing her inside the fort. "Did you kill the dragons?"

"No," Brigid said, stepping aside, to allow the princess to enter first. "But I did bring something else back with me."

"The Princess!" Lars said, amazed. Turning, he shouted over his shoulder, "Bjorn, take the gate. Come, let's go see the captain."

"Can we clean up in my quarters first?" the princess requested, giving him a smile and batting her eyes. "We've been traveling for five days."

"As you wish, Princess," Lars said, smiling happily. Brigid shook her head at his reaction. There was something about the princess's smile that made one want to keep her happy. During their five day trek, she'd had to work hard to not answer every question she asked.

Lars led them to the princess's quarters, taking them through the fort's inner passageways to avoid attracting attention.

"We'll be right out," Magda told him, pulling Brigid into her quarters.

Brigid looked around, never having been in that part of the fort, even when her father visited the captain. There was a large chamber with a loom, and a table in one corner piled high with scrolls. Four doors led to other rooms that she couldn't see into.

"Princess! You're alive!" a voice shouted. Looking towards the voice, Brigid saw a tiny woman, dressed in rich clothing, speeding towards them from one of the rooms.

"Freyah!" the princess said, rushing to her and hugging the woman. "I've missed you."

"Your father will be so glad to know you are back," Freyah said. "What happened? You've been gone for almost a moon. And who is this?"

"This is my cousin Brigid," the princess told her. "Her father is Wilfredson, the famous dragon hunter. She rescued me from a witch."

"A witch? You poor thing. It must have been very frightening," Freyah said. "We need to get you into proper clothes."

"We don't have time for you to get dressed up," Brigid reminded Magda. "We need to go see the captain. You can change afterward."

"I'm not going to go see him like this," the princes told her, heading towards one of the inner rooms, Brigid and Freyah following her.

"It was so exciting," Magda said to Freyah, as she dug through a chest. "I met some elves and rode on one of their riding beasts that looks like a horse. And saw dragons."

"A nag mora," Brigid added. "She was very brave."

"I don't remember the witch," Magda said, removing her travel stained elf clothes. Taking the wet cloth Freyah handed to her, she washed her face before putting on fresh clothes, a dress and overcoat made of royal colors. Brigid didn't think they were as practical as the elf clothes she'd been wearing but had to admit they didn't look bad on the princess.

"An old witch?" Freyah asked, staring at them. "Like from one of the sagas? Or a sorceress like the one who enchanted Odin?"

"Sorceresses are supposed to be beautiful," Brigid said. "This one wasn't but she wasn't an old crone. She had a large castle, guarded by dragons and skeleton soldiers."

"You need to freshen up," Magda told her cousin, once she was finished.

"I'm fine as I am," Brigid said. "We should get going before Lars goes to the captain without us." The princess frowned, and looked like she was going to refuse. "The sooner the captain knows you are alive, the sooner you can come back here."

Nodding, the princess smiled at Freyah. "I'll be back in time for dinner," she said.

"Yes, Princess," Freyah said.

* * *

The captain's aide kept them waiting long enough to draw the ire of the princess, which surprised Brigid. She had thought the captain would be anxious to see her.

"Brigid, Princess," the captain said, when the aide directed them into the captain's office. He wasn't a fawning person, in Brigid's experience. From things Lars had said over the years, Brigid knew he wasn't the typical captain. He did his job, keeping the fort running and making sure the troops were well trained. He was not trying to get rich or gain power. And the king trusted him, her father saying that it was because the king knew the captain would never try to take over the country.

"Please sit," he said, directing them to stools in front of his work table, piled high with scrolls. "I've sent a messenger to your father, Princess, asking for an escort to take you back to the capital."

"I want to stay here, with Brigid," the princess protested, to Brigid's surprise.

"I'm not staying," Brigid told her. "I still have a hunt to finish."

The captain looked at her questioning.

"The witch I rescued the princess from is dead, and her castle collapsed when she died," she said. "But some of the dragons she was using to frighten the townspeople are still out there." She wasn't going to explain the difference between wyrms and dragon kin to them.

"There was no treasure?" the captain asked, curious.

"We had to destroy all of her things," Brigid said. "It was all cursed. And the Elf Queen insisted."

"Elves?"

"They were angry with the witch for interfering in their realm, so they helped me with her," Brigid said.

"Ah. They rarely travel to our kingdom," he said. "There isn't anything for them in our lands."

"I met two of them," the princess said excitedly. "They were really tall, like Brigid."

"You will need to put off your hunt for a few days. The king will want you to travel to the capital with the princess," the captain said.

"Why?" Brigid asked.

"To thank you," the captain said. "And there is the reward for rescuing the princess."

"Captain, I have no need for the reward," Brigid said stubbornly. "And I don't think the king is going to want to give it to me."

"The princess's hand in marriage might be a problem," the captain said with a laugh, "but there are other rewards."

"You only rescued me for the reward," the princess said, huffing. "Go back to your woods!"

"You know I didn't do it for the reward, Cousin," Brigid said, glaring at the princess. They'd argued about the point on the slow trip back but the princess kept bringing it up, like a sore limb or a scab she couldn't resist picking.

"Then you can come with me to the capital," the princess said, pouting.

"The escort will leave for the capital two days from now, in the morning," the captain told them. "Please be ready."

* * *

Brigid had no plans to wait two days for the escort to the capital to get ready. After taking the princess back to her quarters, she gave an excuse, that she couldn't believe the princess accepted, and after a quick goodbye to Lars, slipped out of the fort and headed home. She planned to let her mother know she was fine and then head back north, this time for the Fire Dwarf's mountains.

Without the princess to take care of, and with the potion from the elves still running through her, Brigid was able to travel fairly quickly. She didn't bother trying to hide her trail. The fort would be distracted by the reappearance of the princess for the next few days until she was taken back to the capital. Brigid believed she would be able to get home and back out on the road before the Princess sent someone looking for her.

* * *

Brigid stared up at the tree. It had been almost a moon since she'd hidden her pack up in it. Taking her longest rope, she flung it up into the tree, catching it on a high limb. Pulling herself up, she carefully untied her old pack from the notch in the tree. She examined it carefully. The pack was intact, though covered with grime and bits of moss.

Swinging it over her back, she unwound the climbing rope and climbed out of the tree. Not wanting to stay near the old camp of the raiders she'd killed, Brigid walked deeper into the trees until she came to another, smaller clearing.

Taking off the old pack, she carefully emptied it. Everything seemed to be still in good shape, dry and well wrapped. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother would be happy to finally get everything before winter set in. Repacking everything, she spread it out evenly between her old and newer packs.

Adjusting both packs, pulling their straps tightly, Brigid started off, once more moving at what would have been, before the potion, an impossibly quick pace.

* * *

"Brigid, Brigid, Brigid!" her brother shouted, jumping up and down excitedly as she entered the compound. Waving at him, she headed straight for their cabin.

"Brigid!" her mother said, rushing up to her, and pulling her into a tight hug. "We were beginning to worry."

"I'm fine," Brigid said, taking off both packs and placing them next to the table. "Look!" she said, as she began unpacking them.

"Is that everything?" her mother asked in surprise.

"Yes," Brigid said, handing the ribbon to her mother. "Everything."

"And the princess?" her mother asked, sitting down on the bench next to the cooking fire.

"Is an annoying brat," Brigid said, grimacing.

"You found her?" Her mother asked. "What happened?"

"Yes, I found her, though not intentionally," Brigid said, sitting down next to her. "It wasn't dragons, mostly," she said. "There was a witch who kidnapped the princess." She'd decided on the trip home from the fort to use as few details as possible. She didn't want her mother worrying.

"A witch?" Brigid's mother said, pulling Brigid to her and gripping her tightly. "Alone? Even your father wouldn't do something that foolish."

"Father never faced a witch," Brigid said. "And I wasn't exactly alone," she admitted.

"Who did you bring?" her mother asked. "Is there a witch hunter at the fort now?"

"Witch hunter? Not that I know of," Brigid said. "And I didn't know a witch had taken the princess at first. I thought she was eaten by a dragon and I was hunting them. Alone."

"That sounds like something your father would do," her mother said, not letting go of Brigid. Brigid still hadn't decided if she should tell her mother about the potion so she didn't free herself, even though it would have been effortless. "How did you handle the witch once you found her if you were alone?"

"I wasn't alone by then," Brigid admitted. "I had help."

"Help?" her mother asked.

"I ran into an elf. She was hunting the witch," Brigid said. "We worked together to defeat the witch."

"You followed the dragons to the Dark Elf realm?" her mother asked, aghast. "They could have done something to you and we would never have known!"

"Mother? Dragon hunting is dangerous. Witch hunting is dangerous. The Dark Elf realm? Is just land that the elves live on."

"You didn't drink anything they gave you?" Brigid's mother asked.

"Possibly," Brigid said. "But nothing dangerous."

Her mother shook her head. "You can't know that," she said. "And how did you rescue the princess?"

"The witch had imprisoned her in a medallion," Brigid said. "One of the elves broke the spell and freed her."

"So, the elves freed the princess? What did the King think of this?" her mother asked. "They refuse to allow his messengers permission to travel through their lands."

"I freed the princess, when I killed the witch," Brigid said. "Not that anyone wants her," she mumbled. "She's loud and obnoxious."

"So, you didn't just help?" her mother asked, hugging her even tighter.

"The elves couldn't kill the witch," Brigid said. "She'd cursed one of their people and things would have gone badly if they'd dealt with her themselves."

Her mother shook her head. "Your story keeps changing. What really happened?"

"The elves were hunting the witch. They offered me a reward if I helped them," she said.

"And the reward was?" her mother asked, curious.

"The witch's greatest treasure," Brigid said. "We had to destroy everything else to remove the witch's curse.

"And what was her greatest treasure?" her mother asked.

"The princess," Brigid said. "But she was imprisoned in a medallion, so we didn't know it was her."

"So, the elves gave you the princess?" her mother asked, giggling. "What did the princess and the king think of that? Do you get to keep her? We could use the help around here."

"The princess doesn't know," Brigid said. "And you aren't going to tell her, Mother. I don't have any use for that spoiled brat."

"And the king?" her mother asked.

"I don't know. I didn't stay around. The captain wanted me to go to the capital with the princess. But I have too much to do."

"It would be a wonderful opportunity, Brigid." her mother said. "The experience would be good for you."

"A week with the princess was enough," Brigid said. "He can keep her."

"What's wrong with your cousin?" her mother asked.

"Nothing, I just don't have the time to indulge her strange whims." Brigid said.

"Strange whims?"

"She refuses to sleep alone. She won't fall asleep unless someone is holding her." Brigid grumbled.

"Are you sure you didn't misunderstand her?" Her mother asked.

"There was no misunderstanding." Brigid said, grimacing. "She wouldn't let go all night for the whole trip back."

"When you have a husband, you won't object to that kind of thing," her mother said. "If you're lucky, you'll find one who stays in your bed, and doesn't wander."

"I don't want a husband," Brigid said. "Or a clingy princess," she added.

Her mother shook her head and released Brigid from her tight grasp. "Some day you will," she said.

Brigid shook her head, getting up. She couldn't explain it yet but the feeling that there was more to life than marriage had been growing in the back of her head.

Picking up her new pack, Brigid started going through the things on the table. When she finished, she had, in one pile, the spices her mother had been waiting for. In another were her dragon hunting tools.

"What are you doing?" her mother asked.

"The witch's dragons have been taken care of," Brigid said "but there are still other dangerous dragons wandering around. The dwarves north of the Dark Elf realm are looking for someone to deal with an infestation of dragons."

"And you are going?" Her mother asked. "You just got home," she protested.

"You expect me to let these dragons attack others?" Brigid asked.

"You are your father's daughter," her mother said, sighing. "When will you be back?"

"I don't know," Brigid said. "But I will be back."

* * *

"So, she rescued the princess, and ran in the oppostite direction as fast as possible afterward. Not very romantic," Quinn said. "Is that it? Or do we get to hear about her wyrm hunting trip?"

"There's more," Brittany said, nodding. "We still have a wyrm hunt and some romance. But first more cocoa!" She picked up her mug and waved it around.

"Here you go, Brit," Santana said, pouring cocoa into her mug from a large thermos.

"This is the best," Brittany said, taking a deep sip from her mug, and sighing.

"What happens next?" Kurt asked.

"Brigid heads back towards the Dark Elf realm and meets a friend," Brittany said. "Just like she said she would."


	9. The Dwarves have wyrms!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid meets dwarves and fights wyrms. Among other adventures.

Brigid could feel the difference when she crossed over into the Dark Elf realm and stood on the road along its border. It wasn't just another dirt path winding away into the woods. Entering the realm, she could feel the land welcoming her back after days spent in the human lands. It was such a different feeling, she couldn't help but grin and breath deeply as she absorbed the feeling.

"It hasn't worn off yet, has it," a very familiar voice said, from behind her.

Surprised, Brigid jumped, her hand automatically searching for her favorite knife. Sitting on her nag mora, Wystalia looked down at Brigid.

"Not bad," she said. "But you need to learn how to feel the land without being distracted by it."

"You knew what I was doing?" Brigid asked, walking up to the nag mora and its rider.

"Everything in the realm is connected," Wystalia said, reminding her. "As soon as the Land felt your presence, the rest of us knew you were here."

"Oh," Brigid said. "So how do you keep secrets?"

"We don't read thoughts," Wystalia said. "Or feelings. But the land knows you, your heart. And it welcomes you."

Brigid couldn't think of anything to say to that, so she simply shrugged. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I'm taking a message to the dwarves, for the queen. If you would like, I can introduce you to them at the same time."

It didn't take any time for Brigid to agree. She hadn't thought how she would introduce herself to them. Meeting the elves had turned out unexpectedly well so she'd hoped for more of the same, as soon as she found them. "I would like that," she told Wystalia. "How far away are they?"

"We can be at their mountain tomorrow," Wystalia said. Standing up in her saddle, she whistled. With a fast clatter of hooves, another nag mora appeared beside them. It was the same beast she'd ridden on her previous visit to the realm. "Get on," she was told.

Brigid's smile got even larger. Taking off her pack, she attached it to the nag mora's saddle in its accustomed place before climbing aboard herself.

* * *

Once again, they set up camp in an old elf campsite. Brigid still found the whole process of setting up the tent to be fascinating, even after having one herself while taking the princess back to the fort.

"It's still the same elf magic," Wystalia said. Brigid nodded. "You still have one of those tents," she said.

"Not exactly the same," she said. "This one is slightly larger, since you seemed to have problems with the size of the last one.

"It wasn't the size," Brigid said. "But how you used it."

"Tents are homes," Wystalia said.

Brigid sat down on a rock next to the fire, and watched Wystalia prepare their evening meal. "What are you making?" she asked.

"Travel soup," Wystalia said. 

"Soup? What do you put in it?" she asked, curious. Their travel food was always interesting but Elves didn't appear to eat meat, as far as she could tell.

"Grain, apples, juice, and root paste dumplings," Wystalia said. "You'll like it."

"Ah," Brigid said, taking the bowl Wystalia held out to her. She sniffed it carefully before sticking a finger in the soup. "Cold?" she said.

"Heating it ruins the flavors," Wystalia said. 

"Oh," Brigid said. "It has an interesting flavor."

"Spoon?" Wystalia said. "Might be easier to eat."

"Right," Brigid said sheepishly.

* * *

"Wystalia?" Brigid said, waking.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?" Brigid asked, feeling something tugging at her hair.

"Braiding your hair," Wystalia said.

"Why?" Brigid asked, trying to sit up in the cramped tent and look at the elf.

"The dwarves don't have hair," Wystalia said. "The braids will impress them."

"No hair?" Brigid asked. "What happened to it?"

"They asked their goddess for a favor," Wystalia said. "Their hair was getting in the way of their forges. So, they asked for all of their hair to fall off when they grew up."

"You aren't serious," Brigid said.

"Partially," Wystalia said, laughing. "We don't actually know why dwarves have no hair when they become adults. But that was a popular explanation at last summer's fair."

"You have a fair?" Brigid asked. "What kinds of things do you do?"

"What are human fairs like?" Wystalia asked. "Food, games, contests?"

"Yes," Brigid said.

"Well, that's what elf fairs are like. You'll have to come next summer, and bring your princess," Wystalia said softly, going back to braiding Brigid's hair.

"She's not my princess," Brigid said, protesting.

"So you gave her back to her father?" Wystalia said.

"I took her back to the fort," Brigid said.

"But you didn't return her?"

"No…" Brigid said, Wystalia's gentle tugging at her hair was putting her back to sleep. 

"So she's still yours," Wystalia said. "Bring her to the fair next summer."

"If I see her, I'll ask," Brigid said, before closing her eyes.

* * *

After packing up the camp, Brigid and Wystalia roused the nag mora and mounted for the ride to the dwarves mountain. They stopped for their midday meal within shouting distance of the mountain.

"It's a large mountain with carvings on it," Brigid said, before taking another bite of her travel bread. "How do we get their attention?"

"Knock on the door," Wystalia said.

"Sounds simple," Brigid said.

"You do have to speak their language," Wystalia said. "They aren't elves, they don't speak any human languages."

"Oh," Brigid said. "So, you can speak dwarven?"

"They call their language 'rock speech'," Wystalia told her. "I can speak a little of it. Enough to communicate with them." She started picking up the remains of their meal. "We should get going. They saw us as soon as we stopped and are probably a little impatient."

* * *

Wystalia pounded on the large carved door in an almost rhythmic fashion that sounded familiar to Brigid's ears.

"What's that?" she asked, when Wystalia paused

"It's our names in dwarf. And a request for parley," she said. "It's similar to what you heard when you met the queen."

"I don't remember that," Brigid said.

"I'm not surprised. You looked a little frightened when you met the queen the first time."

"I wasn't afraid of the queen," Brigid said, grumbling. "Now what?" she asked.

"Now we wait," Wystalia said. "They know we're here, now someone just needs to be curious."

* * *

They were sitting in front of the gate, playing a riddle game when the large gate started to slowly open. Standing up, Brigid started shaking dust from her clothes. Wystalia just shook her head.

"We need to get you some elvish cloth to make clothes with," she said. "It doesn't stain, or absorb water or get dirty."

"That would be useful," Brigid said. "How much cloth could I have?"

"Enough for several travel outfits," Wystalia said. "And we'll need to get needles, if you plan to have your mother sew them."

"Special needles?" Brigid said. She turned and stared at her.

"The cloth is very tough," Wystalia said. "Only needles from the realm can penetrate it."

"So, it's like armor?" Brigid asked excitedly.

"Not completely," she said. "Hit it hard enough with something sharp, like an axe or sword, and it will rip or tear."

"So, that's why you wear armor," Brigid said.

"Yes. I really prefer that my insides stay inside my body," she said. "It's easier to stay alive that way."

Before they could continue their conversation, the huge gate opened completely, and a small group of short, bald women trooped out. Brigid tried not to stare at them but they were unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Standing next to them, Wystalia looked almost human, though abnormally tall.

From the way Wystalia was looking at them, Brigid assumed they must be beautiful, for dwarves, but she wasn't sure what the attraction was.

The dwarves at the gate were all women, armed with long spears and curved knives that Brigid ached to touch. Or at least she assumed they were all women. None of them had any hair, and had well-defined muscles exposed by their thin clothing. Their skin glistened in the sunlight, almost as if they'd just come from a sauna.

While she examined the dwarves, and tried not to appear too rude while doing so, Wystalia carried on a conversation with one of them in a strange whistling, clacking language. Brigid had nothing to compare it to, unlike elvish where she'd at least been able to catch emotion in the words. The dwarves didn't seem to have any recognizable words.

Wystalia explained everything to her later, back at their overnight camp.

* * *

__

Wystalia nodded in greeting to the approaching dwarves. 

__

"You've come for the new scepter?" the dwarf princess asked.

__

"Yes," she said. "My queen is very excited to see the wonders you've created for her."

__

"It will be ready tomorrow," the dwarf princess said. "You have brought one of the Daughters of the Hammer with you."

__

"She is one of his great-granddaughters," Wystalia said. "She has also been declared 'elf kin' by our people."

__

"That is a rare gift," the princess said, nodding. "What brings her here?"

__

"She fancies herself a wyrm slayer and would like permission to hunt in your mountains."

__

"Will you be hunting with her?"

__

"Yes," Wystalia said.

__

"Then she may hunt with you this time," the dwarf princess said. "But she must not take any of the wyrms hoard out of the mountains. We've placed the dwarf kin curse on it."

__

"She will be disappointed," Wystalia said.

__

"We will provide compensation for her hunts," the dwarf princess said. "Uncursed gems in exchange for the heart and tongue of each."

__

"And future hunts?" Wystalia asked.

__

"She just has to make her presence known to us and she is free to deal with the pests, with the same stipulation," the princess said.

__

"It is appreciated," Wystalia said. "She is young but already showing signs of her heritage."

__

"What shall we give you for guiding her in the hunt?" The princess asked.

__

"I do not need anything," Wystalia said dismissively.

__

"You shall be rewarded anyway," the princess said. "Her presence in our mountains will bring us great status among our people. It has been an age since one of our patron's get spent time in our mountains."

__

"If you must, light weight armor fit for the Hammer's granddaughter would be suitable," Wystalia said. 

__

"You have designs on the girl?" the dwarf princess asked.

__

"Me?" Wystalia said, trying to appear surprised.

__

"Elf kin have amusing ideas about humans," the dwarf princess said. "We do not see the attraction, even though you have decorated her hair with dwarven designs."

__

"She is a friend," Wystalia said, "but there is one, a human princess, who appears to have plans for her. I would that she have proper armor when she faces that challenge."

__

"It will be as you ask," the princess said, taking the scroll from her. "Return in a fortnight and it and the scepter will be ready."

__

Wystalia bowed slightly. "We shall return then," she said.

__

* * *

After a bit of back and forth, and after Wystalia handed over a scroll to their leader, she rejoined Brigid. They watched the dwarves go back into their mountain, slamming the door shut behind them.

"So?" Brigid asked.

"You have permission to hunt the wyrms in their mountains," she told Brigid.

"But?" Brigid asked, knowing there must have been conditions, given how long it had taken her friend to come to an agreement with them.

"On this first hunt I will accompany you," Wystalia said. "On future hunts, you will just need to announce your presence."

"And?" Brigid asked. As conditions went, going hunting with an elf warrior maiden wasn't exactly objectionable.

"They want the hearts and tongue of all the wyrms you kill for them. And you can't take any of the treasure," Wystalia said.

"None of it?" Brigid asked. She would kill the wyrms even if there was no reward to protect her people, but she would like some proof to show to the people at the fort, and her mother.

"The wyrms have been stealing from the dwarves for a very long time," Wystalia told her. "The gold and gems have a curse on them. You really wouldn't want to catch it, I think."

"Isn't all dragon gold cursed?" Brigid asked. She'd brought one of her father's anti-curse containers. She hadn't planned on taking much, just a couple jewels and similar objects.

"They put a special curse on this gold," Wystalia said. "Anyone who takes it outside of the wyrm caves is turned into a dwarf. Maybe you don't care? They are kind of cute," she said.

"No," Brigid said, quickly. "I like myself the way I am. I don't want to be shorter, or bald… and there were no men," she said.

"All dwarves are female," Wystalia said. "I thought I told you that?"

"No, you didn't," Brigid said, surprised. "Where do little dwarves come from?" she asked.

"No one really knows," Wystalia said. "I've never seen a pregnant dwarf, or a baby one."

"So, no treasure or reward," Brigid said, disappointed.

"I didn't mention the reward?" she said. "Uncursed gems, worth a portion of each wyrm's hoard. Very generous," she added. "Of course, you can negotiate your own deal with them."

Brigid grinned. "No, I think that's an excellent deal. But what about you?"

"What about me?" Wystalia asked.

"If you're coming with me," Brigid asked. "What about your share of the reward?"

"I wouldn't miss this hunt," Wystalia told her. "My share? I don't have any use for their gems or other trinkets. We agreed to a different reward."

"Like what?" Brigid asked.

"You'll have to wait and see," Wystalia said. "They offered something much more suitable instead." 

"How long do you want to spend here?" Brigid asked.

"They expect us back in a fortnight," Wystalia said. "They'll have something ready for me to take to my queen. And you aren't going to want to carry around wyrm tongue for very long."

"So, where do we start?" Brigid asked, frowning at the thought. 

"We'll make camp and plan for the next few days," Wystalia said, getting back on her riding beast.

"Sounds good," Brigid said, following her away from the dwarf's mountain.

* * *

Sipping her travel soup, Brigid watched Wystalia draw out a map of the dwarves mountains. There were twelve mountains, several rivers, a lake, and an ice field.

"It isn't a very large range," Wystalia said. "There are twelve mountains, named for each month in the dwarves calendar. The dwarves only live in two of them and mine two others. So those are free of wyrms." She circled each of the four wyrm free peaks. "This peak," she pointed to one separated from the others by a river, "is where the dwarves first came to this land. It is where they bury their dead. No wyrm would dare set foot on it."

"So we need to search seven mountains for wyrm sign?" Brigid asked. "Do we have time to do that before we have to go back to see them?"

"It would take a number of seasons to completely clear the mountains of wyrms," Wystalia told her. "We will be cheating. The next time you come up here, you can spend several moons and find all of the wyrm nests. The three largest wyrm nests are here." She circled three of the remaining mountains. "If we can clear at least one of the nests, the dwarves will be extremely happy."

"Why don't they kill them?" Brigid asked.

"Their patron god is your forefather, Thor, but they are descendants of the Mother of All and refuse to kill any of her creatures, even pests like the wyrms," Wystalia said.

"So, they bring in hunters?" Brigid asked.

"They've done so in the past, yes," Wystalia said. "But they don't trust human men, who usually hunt wyrms, and very few human women are hunters. When the wyrm infestation gets to be too much for them to fend off, we've been helping them."

"So you've hunted wyrms in these mountains?"

"Occasionally," Wystalia said, "but it's been a long time since I was last here for that reason."

"What do you think our chances will be?" Brigid asked.

"You've fought dragon kin," she said. "A feral dragon is like a cat. Dangerous and intelligent. Wyrms are more like rats. If they get cornered, they will likely kill you. Or if they think you are stealing their hoard. But they can be easily outwitted and tricked. It might not be easy but less dangerous."

"So our chances are good?" Brigid asked.

"Yes," Wystalia said.

* * *

"How do we get up there?" Brigid asked, looking up at the first mountain.

"There's a trail around the other side," Wystalia said. "The wyrm nest should be over there." She waved at a plume of smoke coming from the side of the mountain. "Fortunately, they have bad hearing and eyesight, so getting close shouldn't be a problem."

Brigid stared up at the mountain, trying to memorize it.

"Come along," Wystalia said. "Plenty of time to daydream later."

* * *

Even though the wyrms had notoriously bad hearing, they tried to be as quiet as possible. The rope tying them together provided a degree of comfort she hadn't expected. The trail along the mountain wasn't as steep as the one used by the dragons but it seemed to go on forever.

"This is it," Wystalia said, stopping next to a steaming vent. "We'll need a bigger entrance."

"So, keep looking?" Brigid asked, trying to wave away the sulphur smelling steam so she could look inside.

"Keep looking," Wystalia said in agreement. "We could make that hole larger but one of us would need to go in first."

"That doesn't seem like a good idea," Brigid said, stepping back from the vent. They walked further up the path.

"This looks better," Wystalia said, pointing up at a larger fissure in the side of the mountain, several dozen feet above their path. "We'll need that grapple and rope you have in your pack."

Nodding, Brigid swung her pack around to her front so she could reach inside of it. Pulling it out, she handed it to the elf.

Wystalia swung the grapple in a circular motion. With a sudden movement, she threw it upward. It clattered against the rock before dropping down into the fissure. Tugging on it, Wystalia set it into place.

"Ready?" she asked, taking the rope in both hands.

"Ready." Brigid braced herself against the mountain as best she could, while Wystalia started pulling herself up to the fissure. When she reached it, Wystalia pulled herself up, dangling one leg into the fissure and the other down towards Brigid. "Your turn," she said loudly.

Taking a deep breath, Brigid pulled on the rope and started climbing up to the fissure.

* * *

Peering down into the fissure, Brigid wondered if they'd found the right place. "Is this it?" she asked, carefully balanced on it. "Does it go to a wyrm's nest or is that the heart of the mountain."

"They are very close to the same thing," Wystalia said. "Wyrms like to build their nests in the hearts of mountains."

"How do we get to it then?" Brigid asked. "I didn't bring anything that is fire proof."

"Not necessary," Wystalia said. "Here." She handed Brigid a heavy, silver medallion. "That will protect you until sun-up the following day."

"What if I don't keep it on for the whole time?" Brigid asked.

"It needs to be touching you in order to work." Saying this, Wystalia took a similar medallion and put it around her own neck, "If you take it off, you are vulnerable to the heat. Understood?"

"Don't take it off," Brigid said. "Got it."

The fissure was larger than it appeared at first. Brigid was able to enter it without bending down. Wystalia wasn't as lucky, but was able to enter with no problems. Several feet in, past where sunlight entered the fissure, the chamber widened out.

They had barely stepped into the chamber when the wyrm attacked them. The women split up to make it harder for the wyrm to reach them.

"Tail," Brigid shouted, seeing the river of lava flowing along one side of the chamber and having a crazy idea. 

"Tail?" Wystalia said, giving her a puzzled look from across the chamber. Shaking her head, she dodged around the wyrm, causing it to turn to follow. As soon as its attention was on Wystalia, Brigid stabbed it in the tail.

The wyrm whirled around again in the other direction, trying to remove the spear from its tail. At the last second, Brigid pulled out her spear and stabbed it in the side. Using a combination of attacks on its tail, and side, Brigid and Wystalia slowly drove the wyrm towards the lava stream.

The wyrm couldn't seem to decide which of the women to attack and was slowly becoming confused. Finally, Brigid saw the opening she'd been waiting for. Stabbing the wyrm's tail at its base caused the wyrm to reflexively swing it away, dunking it into the lava flow. The wyrm screamed, the screeching sound deafening in the chamber. Reaching down, it tried to bite its own tail. Though Brigid wasn't sure what it was trying to do, she used the opportunity to stab the wyrm with her spear, pinning its mouth shut around its tail. 

"Stab it," Brigid yelled at Wystalia over the beast's screams. "Make it angry so it'll flame!"

Wystalia started poking the wyrm in any vulnerable spot she could find, not giving it any chance to get away. Both Wystalia and Brigid were exhausted by the constant moving, but they couldn't stop. 

"In the throat," Brigid said quickly. "Make it breath its own flame."

Finally, after one fairly deep stab, the wyrm attempted to stop them with its ultimate weapon, wyrm fire. It took a deep breath, and aimed at Brigid.

"Now!" Brigit shouted, dropping out of the way of where she thought the flame would go.

Jumping forward, Wystalia stabbed it in the throat, causing it to breath in, instead of out. Even a wyrm wasn't immune to its own flame, they discovered, confirming Brigid's wild idea, as it sucked in its own flames, killing the wyrm.

"Now that is a different way to kill a wyrm," Wystalia said, stepping away from the smoldering beast.

"It was an idea," Brigid said, shaking in reaction.

* * *

"Dwarves are bald?" Rachel said.

"Shave your hair and you'd fit right in," Santana said. "And tubby can join you."

"San, you're being mean again," Brittany said, frowning.

"She leaves herself wide open," Santana said, shrugging.

"What's tomorrow?" Kurt asked.

Last night here?" Brittany said. "The rest of the wyrm hunt, and maybe a rescue, and then home for Brigid."

"And the romance?" Rachel said. "You promised."

"Plenty of time for that," Brittany said. "No worries."

"And we have an early morning tomorrow," Buffy said. "Off to bed."

Don't mind if we do," Santana said, in a fake British accent. She grabbed a giggling Brittany by the hand and led her away from the bonfire.

"Thanks," Quinn said, grumbling. "They'll be t it all night."

"I think I'll sleep out here," Rachel said, grimacing.


	10. More Wyrms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wyrm hunt continues. With a few surprises.

"Romance?" Rachel said, as soon as they'd all gathered around the roaring bonfire that night.

"Of course," Brittany said. "Didn't I promise?"

"There might have been something of that nature mentioned," Quinn said.

"But first, Brigid needs to finish hunting for those wyrms," Brittany said.

"And then the romance?" Rachel said.

"Of course," Brittany said, before beginning the night's installment.

* * *

The smell of charred meat wafted through the chamber. Brigid wiped the sweat from her forehead and out of her eyes. Things had happened much too fast with the wyrm. Their first plan had literally gone up in smoke as soon as the beast sensed them in its nest. She leaned against the chamber wall, hoping, probably futilely, that it was a clean spot. She stared at the huge mass of charred wyrm in wonder, not sure how they'd survived attacking it and watched Wystalia cutting away at the wyrm.

"Here," Wystalia said, holding out a bloody tooth the size of her hand.

"What do I do with that," she asked, automatically taking it.

"Something to show your people that you've killed a worm," Wystalia said.

"It's a large tooth," Brigid said.

"And nothing else has anything like it," Wystalia said. "It's very valuable in the south. When prepared properly, it can be used to detect poison."

"Really?" Brigid said. "How do you do prepare it?"

Wystalia shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've never seen it done. But I have watched Sylia test a wyrm tooth goblet and it does work."

"Okay," Brigid said. Digging into her small pack, the larger one having been left at the fissure, she took out a large piece of cloth and wrapped the tooth in it before putting it in her pack. "What do we do with the rest of it?" she asked.

"The dwarves want the heart and tongue," Wystalia reminded her. "I took out the tongue with the tooth," she said, pointing at a large mass of something that glistened in the light from the lava pool. "We just need to get the heart."

"What are we going to carry them in?" Brigid asked, trying not to make a face at the thought. She had no problem handling game she hunted, but the dead wym smelled, and being near it gave her an itchy feeling.

"This," Wystalia said, holding up a large pouch.

"It'll fit in that?" she asked in surprise. "How?"

"A little bit of magic," Wystalia said. "I have three of them, just for this purpose. It will also prevent the tongue from rotting, so we won't have to smell it."

"You knew the dwarves would want parts of the wyrm?" Brigid asked.

"They like real proof," Wystalia said. "Not always the same thing, but I came prepared."

"Of course," Brigid said, shaking her head. If Wystalia hadn't come with her on this hunt, she didn't think she would have gotten even this far. "How do we get the wyrm's heart?" she asked.

"Simple," Wystalia said. "Now that it's dead, it will be easy," she said smugly. "Everything except the heart will burn, with a little help."

* * *

It took an entire day for the large corpse to burn. And another day for it to cool off enough so that they could get the heart. While they waited for it to cool, they collected all of the wyrm's hoard, and carefully, without touching any of it directly, piled it in a clean corner of the chamber. Lastly, they covered it with a layer of wyrm ash to hide it from anyone hunting for the treasure. The dwarves would have no trouble finding it once they were told which wyrm cave it was in.

Wystalia brushed wyrm dust from a large object she pulled out of the ashes, and gave it to Brigid.

"It looks like a large rock," Brigid said, holding up the large, blackened object.

"It is," Wystalia said. "The dwarves will take that and cut into it until they have a gem the size of your fist. They'll then carve it into some fancy object that a rich king will buy for half the gold in their kingdom."

"So, we could do the same thing, if we kept it?" Brigid asked, curious.

"No, only dwarves can carve wyrm heart stones," Wystalia said. "If anyone else attempts it they crumble into a white powder. Which is still valuable, but nothing like the dwarf carven gem."

"You've tried it," Brigid said.

"No, but I watched one of the queen's stone carvers attempt to do it," she said. At Brigid's horrified look, she explained "It was a very small heart stone that the dwarves didn't think was worth their time."

"Oh!" Brigid said.

"It shattered into a powder that the wind blew away," Wystalia said, "with one blow."

"Do you have another of those magic pouches for the heart stones," Brigid asked.

Wystalia nodded. "Wrap it in this first," she said, handing a large cloth to Brigid. She then took out another pouch, this time in green, and, taking the wrapped heart stone from Brigid, placed it carefully in the pouch.

"What do we do about the nest?" Brigid asked, as they took their last look down into the fissure. "Do we need to cover it up so more wyrms can't use it?"

"The cinder smell will keep other wyrms out," Wystalia said. "The dwarves will do something to it after they come for the wyrm hoard."

"Where to next," Brigid asked, following Wystalia down the path to their current camp and their riding beasts.

"Next mountain over? Or the one next to the lake, on the other side of the dwarve's mountain?" Wystalia asked. "We can set up camp there and be near several wyrm nests."

"The lake sounds good," Brigid said. "Fresh fish would be a nice change."

Wystalia frowned but didn't say anything about eating fish. "And it's still warm enough for swimming, the mountain has hot springs that keep the lake warm even in winter."

"Is it like the hot springs over in the dragon kin range?" Brigid asked suspiciously.

"With the trolls?" Wystalia asked.

"That's the one," Brigid said. They hadn't actually seen any of the trolls but they'd left those hot springs to avoid them.

"No, the wyrms in that mountain keep other creatures away from the springs, even though they don't use them themselves," Wystalia said. "We wouldn't have to share the hot springs with trolls or any other creatures."

"That sounds like the one to go to next," Brigid said, running her hands through her dry hair. She could really use a nice long soak to get the ash out of her skin. And something besides the elf's meatless meals, for a change.

* * *

"This looks like a good spot," Wystalia said, dropping her pack in the small clearing. 

"The nag mora are going to be fine out there?" Brigid asked. She'd been surprised when Wystalia released her riding beast, and told Brigid to do the same, before entering the small hidden clearing they were going to camp in.

"Yes, they won't run away," Wystalia said. "And they get tired of travel food on long trips. There are plenty of fish in the lake for them to eat. You'll just have to share," she said, winking at Brigid.

"Oh, right," Brigid muttered. She'd gotten used to the nag mora and had forgotten they were really just barely domesticated creatures.

"We can go down to the springs as soon as everything is set up," Wystalia said. Reaching into her pack, she took out the tent, placing it off to one side of the small clearing. With a few whispered words, it inflated with a large huff of air. While Wystalia changed out of her armor, Brigid gathered wood for their evening fire from a stand of trees along one edge of their camp.

"Ready?" Wystalia asked, climbing out of the tent. Brigid decided that Wystalia just liked to make her uncomfortable, blushing as she took in Wystalia's lack of clothes. Sure, she was wearing some kind of cape, but it was almost transparent and didn't hide anything.

"Aren't you going to be cold, dressed like that?" she asked the elf woman, pausing at the tent entrance.

"The sun is up, the wind is warm, and we're going swimming," she said. "I'll be warm enough."

Shaking her head at the answer, Brigid decided to follow her example, up to a point. She didn't have the problems with showing skin that the Carpenter's priests did, and were always harassing the fort's wenches about, but she wasn't going to wander about an unknown place naked. She didn't have a fancy cape to wear down to the lake, though she suspected Wystalia only wore that for her benefit and would otherwise not wear any clothes in camp. She hadn't planned on doing more than hunting wyrm's, but Wystalia seemed intent on turning the hunting trip into something else, some kind of holiday.

Pulling her spare blouse on, Brigid exit the tent and followed Wystalia down to the lake. She could wash her grime and wyrm encrusted clothes later. 

* * *

Basking on a rock after swimming from one side of the small lake to the other and back, and washing the grime out of her hair, Brigid watched Wystalia diving from a high cliff that jutted over the deepest end of the lake.

"Come on up here," Wystalia shouted. "It's great!" Standing very still for a moment, she jumped up and out over the lake. From Brigid's position, it looked exciting and scary at the same time, but she wasn't sure she wanted to do that. Unlike the time she'd gone dropping with Wystalia to leave that one dragon kin's cavern, the only thing stopping her from hitting the ground was the lake, and it looked hard.

Wystalia pulled herself up onto Brigid's rock, splashing her with water.

"Hey!" Brigid yelled, jumping up. "Keep the water in the lake."

"Come jumping with me," Wystalia said. "It's almost like going dropping, but the landing is warmer, and not as dusty."

"You looked like you were having fun," Brigid admitted, "but I think I'll have to give it a pass for now."

"You didn't really like the dropping, either, did you," Wystalia asked. "But you don't mind climbing like we did to get up to the wyrm's cavern."

"I'm not really happy with falling," Brigid said. "When I'm climbing there's always something under my feet or hands. When I fall, I get a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach."

"That's the Mother of All telling you to come back," Wystalia said. "You're free from her pull for a very brief moment. It's very freeing," she said.

"It must be an elf thing," Brigid said. "I prefer my feet stay touching the ground."

"We will get you used to it eventually," Wystalia said. "Let's go soak in the springs. You still have a few bruises from the last wyrm."

Brigid nodded happily, grabbing her blouse. "Do you have any lotion for sun burns?" she asked, gingerly putting it on.

"Elves don't burn," Wystalia said.

"Of course they don't," Brigid muttered.

"And with that potion still in you, you shouldn't either," she said, poking Brigid before taking off at a run, Brigid in pursuit.

* * *

"This is the best camp yet," Wystalia said, poking the fire, "even if you and your stinky fish are here."

"The fish aren't stinky," Brigid protested, carefully turning them over.

"Burnt flesh with a hint of charred wood?" Wystalia shivered in an exaggerated fashion. "You humans have such strange tastes in food."

Brigid just shook her head. Turning the fish over again, she pulled off a small chunk and stuffed it into her mouth. "Just be happy this is fish," she said, "and not rabbit or deer. It tastes good but that potion you gave me makes it smell like dead uncooked wyrm before it starts to cook."

"I still have some travel soup left, for when you want a civilized meal," Wystalia told her, leaning back against the tent door.

"I'm fine with my fish," Brigid said, removing them from their spits. "A sprinkle of salt and sea grass would help the flavor but I didn't bring much with me."

"Salt and weeds won't make it taste better to me," Wystalia said, watching Brigid eat her fish.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Brigid asked, licking her fingers after swallowing the last bite of fish.

"It won't take long to find the wyrm near the lake," Wystalia said. "If it is one of the smaller ones, we should be able to kill it quickly, with all of the experience you now have."

* * *

They reached the wyrm's cavern just before midday. It hadn't been hard to find, the grass and trees around it were charred, and the smell of rotting meat blanketed the area. They stopped at the cavern mouth, listening for any movement. The sounds that came out of it were the grunts and groans of a sleeping beast.

Nodding, Wystalia motioned for Brigid to follow her into the cavern. They carefully crept into the cavern. A faint orange glow provided enough light to see by.

The wyrm, almost half the size of the earlier one, lay on top of its hoard, sleeping. Wystalia held up a hand, halting Brigid in her tracks. She slowly circled around the beast, coming around from the back to rejoin Brigid. She shook her head in disbelief. Brigid wasn't going to argue. 

Brigid held up her spear, the point aimed at the wyrm's heart. Wystalia nodded and she took off at a run towards the wyrm. Wystalia stood off to the side, away from the beast's head. They'd learned from the last wyrm that its dying breath could be fatal, as it spewed forth all of the acid and flame it contained as it died.

The spear sunk in, hitting bone with a jarring scrape. The wyrm roared, and rose from its hoard, twisting around, trying to bite the annoyance attached to its side. Brigid hung on for dear life, trying to twist the spear to do as much damage to the wyrm before she was shaken off.

While she hung on, Wystalia rushed the wyrm from the other side, trying to distract it from Brigid and her spear. Her brightly shining armor caused it to pause briefly, giving Wystalia time to swing at its eyes with her sword. It was a risky move, which was why the armor clad elf had decided that she should do it and that the less protected Brigid would go for the beast's heart.

When they'd planned this part of the hunt, Brigid had been surprised by the suggestion for going for a heart wound, after seeing the heart gem from the other beast that had died from accidentally inhaling its own flame when Brigid and Wystalia had tricked it into chasing its own tail. She'd readily agreed, once Wystalia had explained that the heart stone gem was a result of the beast burning to ash, and that stabbing it in the heart wouldn't affect the resulting gem.

Now blind in one eye, the wyrm returned to snapping at Brigid and her spear, something it could still see. 

Wystalia continued attacking the wyrm from its blind side, giving Brigid time to remove her spear and stab it again between its ribs, trying to hit another vital organ. She ignored the hissing of the wyrm's blood as it splashed on the cavern floor.

They moved back and forth for an eternity, it felt like to Brigid. She'd just stabbed the wyrm again, this time on its blind side, when it slumped over. Brigid and Wystalia quickly jumped back from the beast as flames started pouring out of its gaping mouth. They watched the flames die down for a long time before checking to see if it was dead.

"Finally," Wystalia said, removing her helmet. "I believe it is your turn to remove the tongue." She laughed at the expression on Brigid's face. "I don't think you will get any dirtier," she said, pushing Brigid towards the wyrm.

"You can get the next one," Brigid said, looking at the wyrm's teeth. Looking around she found a thick stick in the wyrm's hoard and used it to prop open the wyrm's jaws. She had no desire to lose an arm if the dead wyrm suddenly moved as it cooled.

"Clever idea," Wystalia said.

"I prefer to keep my arms," Brigit said, grimacing as she reached into the wyrm's mouth, knife first.

* * *

Brigid looked down at the two dust free heart stone gems, in the early morning light. They seemed to match the size of the wyrm they'd been taken from. She wondered what the dwarves would do with them.

"Ready to go?" Wystalia asked her, pulling on her fighting pack, with its bandages and poultices for wyrm burns. They'd been lucky so far, neither of them being seriously burned, but they weren't taking any chances with this last wyrm.

"All set," Brigid said, putting the heart stones back in their protective pouch and putting them in the tent. Reaching for her spear, she used it to stand.

"No nag mora today?" she asked.

"It's a short walk," Wystalia said. "No reason to take them. They would just come back here on their own while we deal with the wyrm."

"If you say so," Brigid said, making sure all of her equipment was attached somewhere on her outer coat or belt. "Any special plans for this one?" she asked as they started walking around the lake towards one of the lower mountains.

"Find the wyrm, kill it," Wystalia said. "Simple."

"As simple as that last one?" Brigit asked, hopefully.

"No, but it should be simpler than the other one," Wystalia said.

* * *

"This wasn't as short a walk as you said it would be," Brigid grumbled as they stopped at a low mound several leagues from their camp. "Why didn't we really take the nag mora?"

"I didn't lie," Wystalia said, pouting.

"Wait, I know this one," Brigid said. "Elves don't lie," she said trying to imitate Wystalia, though from her amused look she was only moderately successful. "But you often leave out important information," she said.

"Yes," Wystalia said. "I might have left out one detail. This wyrm is a sea wyrm."

"Sea wyrm? You mean it lives in water?" Brigid asked. She'd never heard of a sea wyrm. Or dragon that lived in the sea.

"Not exactly. It still lives in a cavern but this one lives in a cavern under the water," Wystalia said.

"And the nag mora?" Brigid asked.

"They are descendants of sea horses," Wystalia said. "They are protective of the sea and would almost certainly attack the sea wyrm and get hurt, if not killed, leaving us to walk all the way back to the dwarves's mountain."

"I don't quite believe you," Brigid said, "but that's a much better tale," she said, nodding her head in approval.

"It's true," Wystalia said, frowning at her hunting companion.

"Don't worry," Brigid said. "I'll be sure to ask Sylia the next time I see her."

"And what will you give me when she tells you I'm speaking the truth?" Wystalia said.

"Not sure," Brigid said. "What did you have in mind?"

"A kiss?" Wystalia said, smirking.

"A kiss? From who?" Brigid asked.

"You?" Wystalia stared at her for a moment. "No, too easy. Your princess?"

"I don't have a princess," Brigid said, sighing.

"If you say so," Wystalia said. "I know. Your mother!"

"When did you ever meet my mother?" Brigid asked, surprised.

"A princess never tells," she said, winking at her.

"You haven't been a princess since the Carpenter was declared a god by his followers," Brigid said. "You told me that yourself."

"That is my price," Wystalia said firmly.

"I can't tell my mother to kiss you," Brigid said.

"I'll take care of that," Wystalia said, "don't you worry."

"Why are we doing this again?" Brigid asked with a frown.

"For the glory and honor of our peoples," Wystalia said. "And you have some noble, unhumanish desire to help the dwarves."

"It wasn't really a question," Brigid said. "I was just thinking out loud. But I appreciate your help."

"Always glad to help out," Wystalia said, winking at her.

* * *

The sea wyrm lair was at sea level. They approached it through a trail of charred seaweed.

"It doesn't smell any better cooked," Brigid said, poking an especially large pile of charred seaweed with her spear.

"A little too much heat," Wystalia told her. "Someone needs to teach this wyrm how to properly cook its food."

"I'll be sure to tell it that," Brigid said as they paused outside of the barnacle and seaweed covered cavern opening.

"A little too quiet?" Brigid asked, in a whisper.

"Very much so," Wystalia said, leaning forward. Nodding to herself, she silently stalked into the cavern, Brigid at her heels.

"Is it alive?" Brigid asked, staring at the rigid beast.

"Looks like it was poisoned or ate something that did this," Wystalia said, poking it with the tip of her sword. "Seems to be still alive but frozen. There are some shell fish that can have this affect on creatures foolish enough to eat them."

"What do you want to do?" Brigid asked. This wasn't about elf kin honor. This was pest control.

"We can't leave it here like this," Wystalia said. "Even a wyrm doesn't deserve to rot like this, unable to move."

"Thought you would say that," Brigid said, nodding. "In the heart?"

"That would be quickest," Wystalia said. "Just watch out for the head," she warned Brigid.

Brigid nodded, testing her spear blade to make sure it was sharp enough to go through the wyrm's tough hide. Aiming carefully, she thrust the spear into the wyrm's side, jumping back to avoid the acidic wyrm blood that gushed out. There was a faint popping sound and a brief burst of flame from the wyrm's mouth but otherwise it died in an uncharacteristically quiet fashion for a wyrm.

"Very anticlimactic," Wystalia said.

"Huh?" Brigid said, not taking her eyes off the wyrm as it seemed to collapse into itself.

"Even a wyrm should die in a more exciting way," Wystalia said. "This was a mercy killing, of sorts. I wonder what really killed it," she said, heading towards its hoard, piled in a corner.

"Will it burn like the others?" Brigid asked, not really paying any attention to her companion.

"Yes, though it might need a little help," Wystalia said. "Ah, this explains it," she said. "Brigid come help me," she shouted.

"What did you find?" Brigid asked, rushing over to the hoard, to find her companion hunched over a pile of rags.

"Something that would certainly poison a wyrm," Wystalia said, uncovering a small figure.

"What's that?" Brigid asked.

"You were wondering about dwarf children," Wystalia said. "It appears that a wyrm tried to make a meal of one. Unfortunately for it, dwarf children are not edible."

Brigid winced, as Wystalia uncovered the child. She wasn't sure how old the girl was but she'd been there for a long time, if the way her bones showed were any indication. "She's still alive?"

"Yes, though I'm not sure for how much longer," the elf said. "Let's get her out of here. We can take care of the wyrm later."

Digging in her pack, Brigid found her emergency cloak. It wasn't very thick but it would be better than the rags the dwarf child was wearing.

"How long do you think she's been here?" Brigid asked.

"Several seasons? Or more?" Wystalia said. "Time is a strange thing in a wyrm nest. Some things age, others not. Her family probably think she's dead."

The child didn't stir while they finished disposing of the wyrm and its hoard. They cleaned her up before heading back to their camp. And still she remained asleep.

* * *

With everything packed away and their campsite cleaned up, Brigid and Wystalia headed back to the dwarves's Mountain. Brigid carried the small dwarf child, wrapped in one of Wystalia's cloaks, on her nag mora. She hadn't awoken yet but neither of them knew anything about dwarf children. It might be normal behavior.

They didn't have a chance to knock on the gate. Before they'd gotten less than a league from the mountain, a large crowd of dwarves appeared seemingly from thin air and escorted them to their mountain.

Dismounting, Wystalia carried on a long conversation with the same dwarf they'd met before their hunt.

"They will take her," Wystalia said softly, coming over to Brigid's nag mora with several dwarves carrying long poles with a strip of material between them. Nodding, Brigid carefully dismounted and placed the child on the material.

"Who is she?" Brigid asked.

"They don't know," she said. "She isn't one of theirs. There are rumors of another tribe of dwarves across the sea who left here ages ago but never returned."

"Do we wait?" Brigid asked. "Or do we turn over the wyrm tongues and hearts and come back later?"

"We'll do this now," Wystalia said. "Finding the child doesn't affect our hunt." Walking back over to her nag mora, she took out the pouches containing the wyrm parts. Waving Brigid over, she bowed and handed the pouches over.

The dwarf leader opened the smallest pouch first, and removed the three heart stone gems. Nodding happily, she passed them to another dwarf, who carried them into the mountain.

Looking at the pouches containing the wyrm tongue, the dwarf leader made a face before waving over another dwarf in a dark outfit. This dwarf nodded and took away the pouches.

"What was that about?" Brigid asked.

"That would be their healer," Wystalia said. "She requested the tongues for her own use. The princess would have rather gotten something else, like those wyrm teeth you have."

"I took several extra teeth," Brigid said. "She can have them," she said, quickly going back to her nag mora and digging out a small package from her pack. Returning to the elf and dwarf, she bowed, as she'd seen Wystalia do, and held out the package.

Giving her an inscrutable look, the dwarf leader open the package, smiling widely when she discovered what it contained, and bursting into speech.

"She thanks you, and wishes to give you a gift," Wystalia said.

A small, dainty dwarf came up to them and handed a small package to the dwarf leader, who opened it to show everyone, speaking as she did so. Wrapping it back up, she handed it to Brigid, to the obvious delight of the other dwarves.

"What is it?" Brigid asked.

"She says you will know what to do with it at the right moment," Wystalia told her with a small grin that told Brigid that the dwarf princess had said more, but she would probably never learn what was really said.

"One more thing, and we can go," Wystalia said. "Your reward, and mine."

"What did you ask for?" Brigid asked.

"You'll see," Wystalia said, nodding towards the dwarves approaching with several large bundles.

* * *

"What did she get from the dwarves?" Kurt asked.

"She told us yesterday," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"She did?" Kurt said.

"She asked the dwarves for armor for Brigid," Rachel said. "Even I remember that."

"It's okay," Brittany said. "It's not really important."

"Awesome dwarf armor isn't important?" Kennedy gasped in fake shock. "Armor can be really useful sometimes."

"When was the last time any of us wore armor," Buffy asked.

"Give me a minute," Kennedy said.

"You can talk about that later," Rachel said. "We were promised romance!"

"And you'll get it," Santana said. "Just hold your ponies, Shorty."

"Yes," Brittany said. "Romance is coming up next, though this is Brigid we're talking about." 

"What does that mean?" Rachel asked.

Brittany coughed, clearing her throat, before continuing. "Brigid had to go home eventually..."


	11. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigid learns that home is where your princess is. Or words to that affect.

Still excited from the successful wyrm hunt, Brigid noticed something was different when she reached the ridge overlooking the compound several leagues away. There were several large groups of people milling about in the field her father had used for training, when they had horses. She'd been too young to do more than stare at the beautiful beasts when they'd been there but she remembered them.

And now there seemed to be horses there again, though even with her potion enhanced eyes she couldn't see them as more than large blobs from such a distance. There also seemed to be a group of large tents near the compound gate. A pole near one of the tents had a large flag with familiar colors, but it was flapping too much for her to make out the device on it.

Worried about her mother and brother, Brigid picked up her pace. She'd originally planned to get to the compound before the evening meal but could get there by midday if she hurried.

* * *

Less than a league from the compound, Brigid ran into an unwelcome surprise. Several of the king's troopers had set up a watch post blocking the main road leading up to it. She wasn't sure what they could be guarding the road against but she didn't recognize any of them from her trips to the fort, so they weren't likely to know her.

"Yield!" one of the troopers said, excitedly blocking her path. "Who goes there!"

Brigid raised an eyebrow at the trooper's enthusiasm, shaking her head. He obviously hadn't spent a lot of time on guard duty, if her experiences with the bored guards at the fort was any indication. 

"I live over there," she said, waving at the compound off in the distance. "Why are the king's troops block my way?" she asked, trying to put as much authority in her voice as she could recall the fort’s captain using.

"The king is visiting one of his holdings," one of them said, not looking impressed with her appearance. "No one may enter without his permission until he leaves."

"When will that be," she asked, frowning. Sure, they held the compound under a grant from the king, but she had no desire to spend time in the compound dressed up just for the king's amusement. 

"In two days," the one who'd originally stopped her said with an imperious manner. The other troopers visibly restrained themselves from laughing at him.

"Fine," Brigid grumbled, starting to turn around. "I have better things to do than wait here for that long." Maybe if she hurried back to the Dark Elf realm, she could catch up to Wystalia, she thought.

"Who are you?" asked another trooper, from her uniform apparently in charge of the guard post. It was one of the rare female troopers in the King's service, who hadn't said anything yet. Brigid wondered if she was treated the same as the other troopers but couldn't think of a way to ask, without appearing rude.

"Does it matter?" she asked, shifting nervously, hoping to get away before someone recognized her and notified her mother that she was back. Or told the king, if he was really at the compound. She didn't think he could be very happy with her for not going to the capital after rescuing the princess. Lars had warned her the last time she was at the fort that the King didn't like being ignored.

"We are the King's Troop," the female trooper said. "We follow his orders. Please stay here," she ordered. "What is your name," she demanded again.

"Brigid," she said glumly, hoping they weren't looking for her or knew who she was. She, after all, looked nothing like her father's family or any other members of the royal family.

"Run to the King's Aide and have them send someone to verify that this person is allowed to enter," the trooper said to the trooper who had originally greeted Brigid. Excitedly saluting, he took off running towards the compound.

"So, Brigid, why weren't you here when the King arrived?" the trooper asked.

"I was out hunting," she said.

"You don't look like you caught anything," the trooper observed. "What were you hunting?"

"Animals," Brigid said, not interested in revealing where she'd gone to a nosy trooper. It was bad enough they’d caught her in her travel stained hunting clothes. If she mentioned dwarves or elves they would never let her past. She stood there, waiting, leaning against her staff, as the sun crept across the midday sky, thinking about her hunt with Wystalia, hoping to be able to go out again some time soon.

* * *

A clatter of hooves brought her attention back to the present. A large brown horse, decked out in green leather skidded to a stop on the road, scattering small stones everywhere. Looking up, Brigid caught sight of the princess glaring down at her. She winked up at the other woman, though from her expression she wasn't sure if she would survive the princess's wrath.

"There you are!" the princess said, her voice somewhere between a shout and a furious whisper. "Father is very angry with you, and your mother wasn't pleased at your behavior either."

Brigid shrugged. "I wasn't going to stick around, Princess, I had things that needed to be done,” she said. She wondered about the odd look the female trooper gave the princess but was afraid of the answer she would get if she asked.

"Well, you aren't going to get away this time!" the princess said. "You owe me a favor for calming Father down when you disappeared."

"As you wish, Princess," Brigid said, deciding the path of least resistance was best.

"I'll take her from here," Magdalena told the troopers staring at them. "Come along," she said to Brigid, turning her horse back to the compound, not offering her a ride.

Brigid huffed, but swung her pack back up on her shoulder and started walking towards the compound, Magdalena at her side, perched daintily on her horse.

"Why didn't you really come to the capital," the princess asked, as soon as they were out of earshot of the curious troopers.

"I didn't think you needed me," Brigid said honestly, "and I still had to take care of the dragons that were killing the sheep."

"They could have waited," the princess said. "They would have still been there when you returned."

"Possibly," Brigid admitted, "But would there have been any sheep left or would they have started on the fort?"

"There are always more sheep," the princess said, wrinkling her forehead. "A few more being fed to the dragons wouldn't have mattered. And people know better than to wander around when there are dragons."

"It would have mattered to the shepherds," said Brigid. "And to you if there wasn't any wool so you could have a new dress this winter."

"Still don't care," the princess said. "Not a good reason for you to skip meeting my father, your cousin, and your king."

Brigid just huffed again, and continued walking towards the compound.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, several minutes later. She'd only been gone just over two weeks hunting wyrms with Wystalia. The king couldn’t have been at the compound for very long.

"A week," the princess said. "If you hadn't shown up today, we would have come looking for you," she added.

"Really?" Brigid asked, "Or just you?"

The princess turned her head away but not before Brigid could see her blush.

"Just you?" Brigid said. "Why?"

"Father might have had problems with the elves. They always send his messengers home without an answer," the princess said. "So he doesn't want to offend them and start a war just for you.

"He must be asking for something they don't want to give him," Brigid said.

"He wants to use their road as a short cut to the sea," the princess said, the tone of her voice giving her opinion of the idea.

"They don't trust him," Brigid said, muttering to herself. "They don't trust humans and probably think he wants their lands. But I wasn't with the elves," she said, frowning at the princess.

"Where were you?" she asked, pouting.

"I went dragon hunting," Brigid said, smugly. "Up in the Crystal mountains."

"Did you see any?" the princess asked. "You don't look like you've been dragon hunting." She stopped her horse and looked down at Brigid. "No singed hair, or burnt limbs."

"Why would I have burnt limbs or singed hair?" Brigid asked.

"From dragon hunting?" the princess said. "The last time a dragon hunter stopped at the palace, he looked like he'd fallen in a bonfire," she said giggling.

"Well, that must have been some amateur," Brigid said disdainfully. "If you take proper precautions you shouldn't get burns from hunting dragons."

"If you say so," the princess said, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath that sounded uncomplimentary to Brigid, though she couldn't call her on it since only an elf or herself could have even heard her.

They stopped near the gate, where the princess dismounted from her horse and turned it over to one of the King's stablehands. They then made their way past another pair of troopers guarding the gate to the compound and went inside. There didn't appear to be a lot of activity in the compound, but there was certainly more of it than when it was just herself, her mother, and her little brother living there.

"They are in your meeting house," the princess said. "Father brought his entire court with him."

"Why?" Brigid asked, grimacing. She'd been only ten summers old the last time she appeared before the king and didn't remember the occasion with any fondness.

"He's the king," the princess said, the 'of course' implied.

The meeting house wasn't large but in their compound only the storehouse was larger, and her mother wouldn’t have thought it was worthy of the king, Brigid knew. Even if it hadn't been used in years, before her father disappeared, when there were half a dozen families living there. Brigid was surprised at how clean it looked, when they were finally allowed inside by another group of King's Troopers. The last time she'd looked it had been covered with dirty straw from being used as a barn during a late winter storm.

* * *

"The Princess Magdalena, and the Princess Brigid!" the King's Yeoman shouted before allowing them to move further into the audience chamber.

"What did he say?" Brigid asked, staring at the princess. "I'm not a princess!" she hissed in a low voice, feeling every eye in the large room staring at her.

"You are now," the princess said smugly. "You rescued me from the witch and the King, my father, rewarded you. You aren't in line for succession with me but you are now a princess of the kingdom."

"This is why I didn't go to the capital with you," Brigid said, angrily, stopping almost halfway to were the king sat, presiding over his court. "I don't want anything like that. If I'm a princess I can't go hunting whenever, wherever and with whomever I want."

"I go hunting!" the princess said, glaring at her, giving her arm a tug in an attempt to get her moving again before the king sent one of his troopers to drag them in front of him.

"What? Rabbits?" Brigid said snidely.

"There are other things to hunt," the princess said, finally succeeding in getting her to move. "Last week we went boar hunting."

"Isn't that done on a horse?" Brigid asked, hoping for a distraction from the approaching court. "Your father lets you do something that dangerous?” she said sarcastically. 

"Of course it's on horseback," the princess asked, raising n eyebrow. "How else would you hunt boar?"

"Did you get one?" Brigid asked, ignoring the frown her mother was giving her from her seat below the king.

"No," the princess admitted. "The Royal Huntsman killed it. But I was part of the hunting party!" she said proudly.

"Impressive," Brigid said, though she wasn't sure if it really counted as hunting to just be part of a large hunting party. She still didn't want to be stuck in a court that wouldn't allow her the freedom to truly hunt, but at least they hadn't locked the princess up to protect her, especially after her kidnapping by the witch. Feeling the king’s eyes on her, Brigid stopped trying to get away from the princess.

"Father, this is Brigid," the princess said, giving him a brief curtsey. Brigid followed her example by bowing, when the princess hissed at her under her breath and tugged on her arm. Standing back up, she slipped off her travel pack, placing it at her feet.

Brigid fidgeted under the King's gaze. She wasn't going to avert her eyes, not if he was going to call her a princess, but that didn't mean she felt comfortable with an audience with the king. 

In some ways he reminded her of her father, with his steely blue eyes and rustic face. Although he hadn't gone on a season’s long raid since becoming King, he looked like he could still take on, and beat, any of his troops or members of his court without breaking a sweat.

"So, you rescued Magdalena from a witch," he stated. "Don't you think you deserve a reward for such a feat?" he asked, tapping the arm of his chair.

Brigid shrugged, glancing at her mother out of the side of one eye. She wasn't surprised at how much her mother looked like she belonged among the members of the King's court, even though she'd never expressed any desire, to Brigid anyway, to be a part of such a thing.

"She's my cousin, Your Majesty," Brigid told him, relaxing just enough to let him know she wasn't afraid of him. "She needed rescuing, so I did it."

"She has other cousins," the king said. "But none of them tried to rescue her. The reward was more than generous, but you were the only person willing to face her kidnappers. Why you and not them?"

"I'm not responsible for their actions," Brigid said. "I didn't rescue her for the reward."

"You shall be rewarded anyway," the King said.

"I don't want to be a princess," Brigid told him, ignoring the gasps from his court.

He waved away her objection with amusement. "I'm your king," he told her. "You have almost as much royal blood as my own daughter," he said. "You are not a raider or one of my troopers so I cannot give you a title or lands of your own but you have earned some recognition by this court. So, you shall be a princess of this kingdom. Whether you wish to be or not."

"I won't dress like a princess," Brigid told him with a growl.

"I had no plans to give you an allowance so you could dress like a princess," the king said, nodding in agreement. "You'll have to buy your own clothes."

"I don't plan to move to the capital," she said.

"There shall be a room for you in the west wing of the palace when you visit," he countered. "If you don't use it, we'll just store salted pork in it."

"I live in the west wing," Princess Magdalena said, objecting.

"You can share," her father said. "You don't need all of that space."

"I will continue to hunt dragons," Brigid said, firmly. "And other beasts that threaten the Kingdom or my family."

"The kingdom has not had an official Dragon Hunter since your father disappeared," he said. "Would you be willing to be the Royal Dragon Hunter?"

"I'm not going to be a raider," Brigid said, before he could add that.

"No question," he said, nodding towards her mother.

"Or a trooper."

"No," he agreed. "I have enough troopers."

"Women can't be dragon hunters," Brigid said bitterly.

"This is my kingdom, not my father's," he said, shaking his head. "My people do what I ask of them, not what was asked of their grandparents. You will be the Royal Dragon Hunter," he said. "I have been assured that your father trained you."

"Yes, he trained me as his father trained him," Brigid said, pretending not to hear her mother muttering under her breath about it.

"Good, good," the king said, rubbing his hands together in delight. "You just returned from a dragon hunt, I believe."

Brigid looked at her mother, raising an eyebrow in question. She bit back a sigh at her mother's nod. She'd hoped to keep this particular hunt a secret.

"Yes, your majesty," Brigid said, bowing to the inevitable. "I was just up in the Crystal Mountains, hunting the dragons that were eating your royal sheep at the western fort."

"Excellent," he said. "From your appearance, we can assume you were successful?"

"Moderately so," Brigid said. "It will take several more trips to completely eliminate them completely, but the dwarves are happy with the progress made in clearing them from their mountains."

"You've met the dwarves?" the princess asked. "Is it true they are all women?"

"The ones I met," Brigid said, shrugging.

"You had no problems communicating with them?" the King's Chamberlain asked, joining the conversation for the first time. "They refuse to talk with the King's messengers."

"One of the Dark Elves was there, doing business with the dwarves and offered to translate for me," Brigid said casually, as if she met elves every day.

"Who?" the princess asked, her glare causing Brigid to cringe. She'd forgotten the princess had taken a slight dislike to Wystalia.

"Wystalia, the Dark Elf Queen's Apolia," Brigid said. "She speaks with the voice of her queen for matters of elf realm security."

"Oh," Magdalena stared at the floor of the chamber, but not before Brigid detected a faint blush. "Did she come back with you?" she asked.

"No, she was there on official business for her queen," Brigid told her.

"You are personally familiar with the elves?" the king asked in surprise.

"Yes, your majesty," Brigid said. "I've spent some time in their realm. They helped me remove the curse the witch placed on the princess when she was kidnapped."

"So they'll let you carry messages through their realm?" the Chamberlain asked.

"The subject never came up," Brigid said, slightly puzzled by his question.

"You can discuss the carrying of messages later," the king said to his chamberlain, stopping further questions from him. "We have much more important matters to discuss."

"Yes, your majesty," the Chamberlain said with a sigh.

"Brigid? It was a successful hunt? What did you bring back with you?" the king asked eagerly.

"I wasn't able to bring back any of the dragon hoard," Brigid said. "The dwarves have cursed all of the dragon hoards in their mountains that are made from gems and metals stolen from their mines."

"That is too bad," the king said, frowning. "But only in those mountains, correct?"

"Yes, your majesty," Brigid said. 

"Good," he said, waving at her to continue.

"However, I do have something to share with you," she said, following a suggestion from Wystalia. Opening her pack, she took out the teeth they'd pried loose from the wyrm's jaws, unwrapping them from the small leather pouch she'd put them in once they'd been cleaned. "This is the tooth of the oldest wyrm," she said, showing the king the largest tooth. "And these are from two others."

"They aren't cursed, also, are they?" the king asked, when Brigid held the teeth out to him.

"No, not at all," Brigid said. "Your majesty is aware of their ability to detect poison?"

"Yes," he said, taking them eagerly.

"Did you get me anything?" the princess asked excitedly.

"Why would I get you anything?" Brigid asked, suppressing a laugh when the princess pouted.

"Because I'm your favorite cousin?" the princess said.

"If you say so," she said, before rummaging once more in her pack. The dwarves had given her an amulet, carved with their runes, and told her she would know what to do with it. Taking out the small, leather wrapped object they had given it to her in, she handed it to the princess without saying a word.

The princess carefully unwrapped it, revealing a delicately carved jewel on a silver chain.

"What does it say?" she asked, holding it up and squinting at the runes carved on it.

"Love, Honor, and Fidelity," a voice like the roar of wind down a mountain pass said from behind them. Turning, Brigid was surprised by the sight of her great-grandfather, who very rarely appeared when non-family were visiting the compound.

"Grandfather, what brings you here?" Brigid's mother asked, rising from her seat and hurrying up to the imposing figure.

"I cannot visit my favorite granddaughter and her children?" he asked, winking at Brigid.

"You are always welcome," her mother said. "You know this. But this is a surprise."

"Who is this?" the King asked, faintly.

"Your majesty, this is my grandfather, Thor, the Hammer of the All Father," Brigid's mother said proudly. The gasps from the assembled courtiers were even louder than they had been when Brigid had said she didn't want to be a princess.

"You are truly related to Thor?" the king asked. "I thought it was just gossip," he muttered.

"It is not wise for mere mortals to declare themselves my children," Thor said. "Unlike some I'm very proud of my family and have no wish to deny them." Brigid wasn't sure who he was referring to but there was a sudden flurry of activity among the courtiers as one of them fainted.

"What brings you here today," Brigid's mother asked, again.

"I wished to see my great-granddaughter in her triumph," Thor said. "It isn't often that the Dark elves, Fire dwarves, and humans reward one of us," he said.

"One of us?" Brigid's mother said faintly, looking back and forth between her daughter and grandfather. "What do you mean?"

"Your daughter has completed her prophesied tasks and earned her place," Thor said cryptically, though apparently Brigid's mother understood what he meant.

"What does he mean?" Brigid asked her, concerned.

"It's family business," her mother said, looking pale.

"Everyone out!" the king roared. With the help of the King's troops, the audience chamber was quickly cleared, leaving the King, Magdalena, Brigid, her mother, and Thor standing alone in the chamber.

"That wasn't necessary," Thor said. Brigid giggled at his forlorn expression. He might be a god, but her great-grandfather liked an audience.

"Thank you, your majesty," Brigid's mother said, giving him a quick curtsey.

"Do you wish us to leave also?" the King asked Thor nervously.

"If you wish," he said.

"I'm staying," the princess said, crossing her arms and giving the king her stubbornest look. He sighed, but looked at Brigid's mother.

"She can stay," she said. "I believe this concerns her also. And you should be here also, if he is going to say what I suspect."

"It isn't often that we welcome a new goddess into our ranks," Thor said, "and you don't think we should celebrate the occasion?"

"Shouldn't you ask the person in question if she wants the honor?" she asked him.

"Where's the fun in that?" Thor said, casually plopping down into the king's chair. 

"Who are you talking about," Brigit asked, nervously looking back and forth between her mother and Thor.

"Actions have consequences," Thor told her. "All of my children have the potential to be welcomed into the ranks of Asgard. But few have ever done so. That potion the Dark Elf gave you?"

"Yes?" Brigid asked.

"It has taken your potential and made it actual," Thor said cryptically. "Having completed the tasks given you at your birth, you are now a goddess, though a minor one. You won't live forever like some of those annoying Grecian goddesses, since you don't have any worshippers, but who wants to do that anyway," he said.

"So it's never going to wear off?" Brigid asked, wide eyed at the thought.

"Oh, it wore off long ago," Thor said, winking at her. "But it changed you."

"I don't feel like a goddess," Brigid protested.

"How would you know what a goddess feels like," Magdalena asked her, a curious expression on her face.

"I'm not sure," she said. "But wouldn't I notice?"

"It doesn't matter," Thor said. "It cannot be undone. Which brings us to another issue." Thor turned back to the king, who'd been listening with a fascinated expression. "Brigid cannot be your Royal Dragon Hunter. She is now beyond that and will soon have other responsibilities in the northern realms."

"Do I have to stop hunting them?" Brigid asked. The king brighten at her words.

"Of course not," he said. "We all have our hobbies."

"Good," Brigid said. "I wasn't going to give it up."

"And now she can be given the true reward," Thor said, looking at the king. "Yes?"

"But…" the king stuttered. "There is still a problem," he said.

"You wished for a husband for your daughter, correct?" Thor asked. "The person who rescued her, and dealt with the dragons eating the Royal sheep would get her hand in marriage. Yes?"

"Yes, a husband," the king said, stressing the word ‘husband’. 

"Brigid is now a goddess," Thor reminded them, to Brigid's great displeasure, though she knew they wouldn't be forgetting his visit any time soon. "Minor, yes, but if she wishes children with your daughter, nothing will be able to stop her."

"I don't want a wife, even if she's a princess," Brigid protested. "What would I do with one? Or children?"

"What does one do with a wife?" Thor asked, smirking at her. Brigid blushed at his words.

"What if I don't want her," Magdalena said, pouting. "What if I prefer a husband to her?"

"You haven't objected in the past to dalliances with your father's female troopers," Thor said with a smirk. Brigid stared at her cousin, not quite sure she'd heard him correctly, though that might explain the odd look given the princess by that trooper at the guard post.

"Thanks for reminding my father of why he sent me to the fort, from where I was then kidnapped," the princess said, glaring at the Thunder God, and stomping her foot.

"The two of you are stubborn," Thor said, grinning. "And feisty. I like that."

"You are just noticing this now?" Brigid's mother said, shaking her head.

"So, there will be grandchildren with your blood to rule my kingdom after I die?" the king asked Thor.

"You won't be dying anytime soon," Thor told him. “But you will have at least one grandson to hand your kingdom to before it happens."

"It's my kingdom to rule," the princess objected.

"The kingdom is bursting with disciples of the Carpenter," Thor said. "They will not accept you as their queen."

"It's still supposed to be mine," Magdalena said, glaring at her father and Thor. "Let's kill all of the Carpenter's priests," she said eagerly. "They kept saying my old nurse was a witch. They obviously have no true knowledge of such things. They’re just jealous.”

"Your old nurse was a witch," Brigid said, quietly.

"How do you know this?" the princess asked, staring at her.

"Because I rescued you from a witch?" Brigid said. "Who I believe was your old nurse?"

"Prove it," the princess said, glaring at her.

"How?" Brigid asked. "We burned her and all of her possessions in her funeral pyre," she said.

"All of it?" the king asked, his eyes lighting up with greed.

"All of it," Brigid said. "It was cursed so the elves insisted that it be destroyed. And since her castle was in their realm, there was no reason to go against their wishes. And that burned too.”

"I'm glad," the princess muttered in an odd tone, though Brigid suspected she was the only one who heard her. She was going to have to keep an eye on her cousin. She seemed to be fine but whatever the witch had done to her while trapping the dragon kin still bothered her.

"That Auld used some very nasty curses," Thor said, frowning. "I would almost think she was related to one of my sisters. They could be vicious. If the curses had been released, they could have destroyed your kingdom. I don't think she liked the Carpenter's priests."

The king sighed in obvious disappointment, before brightening up. "If you are now a goddess, you have the power of one," he said. "What can you do?" he asked Brigid.

"I don't know," Brigid said, eyeing him nervously. She really didn't want to spend the rest of her life doing tricks for the king. He had full time jesters for entertainment. Or spending time smiting his enemies when he had professional troopers for that.

"You will find it more profitable to leave her alone," Thor said, hinting heavily. "If you want that grandson."

"Yes, Father," said Magdalena. "If you want grandsons you will leave my princess to my tender care."

"Your princess?" Brigid said, her voice squeaking in surprise.

"I told you I wasn't going to let you go, didn't I," the Princess said with a smirk. Brigid looked at her great-grandfather and mother for help but they just laughed at her. Even the King looked the other way.

"I hope you like living here," Brigid said, hoping to shock her into dropping her plans. "This is my home and I don't plan on leaving."

"It has possibilities," the princess said. "There is plenty of room, so we won't be tripping over each other."

"We can have the wedding ceremony tomorrow," Thor said. "I do love a good party."

"Wedding ceremony?" Brigid asked faintly.

"Of course," her mother said, "though I'm not sure what kind it would be since the priests of the Carpenter aren't going to approve."

"We can ask the Valkyries," Thor said. "They do this sort of thing all the time."

"Odin's warrior maidens?" the King said, causing the princess to grimace.

"We aren't going to be able to have the ceremony for weeks," she said. "He's going to want to invite all of his raider friends so he can brag about it."

"Don't worry," said Brigid's mother. "The two of you can spend the time while we wait getting to know each other." From her expression, Brigid knew she wasn't making a suggestion. Nodding, she bowed in recognition of her mother's rule.

Thor patted her on the back. "Life is always better if you recognize the true power in the family," he said to her.

"Yes, great-grandfather," Brigid said, ignoring her giggling princess. Her princess? Brigid groaned as the thought crossed her mind. At least she wouldn't live forever. And could still hunt dragons. She tried to take comfort in that thought. And tried not to think about what her great-grandfather had meant about other responsibilities.

* * *

"Is that really how she became a slayer? An elf potion and her great-grandfather being Thor?" Quinn asked. "That seems like cheating."

"Thor called her a goddess," Kurt said, "not a slayer."

"Goddess, slayer, same diff," Santana said.

"To people at that time, being a slayer would have been like being a minor goddess," Willow said. "Thor specifically said she wouldn't live forever, so no immortality."

"Thor is real?"

"Possibly," Willow said, "There have been sightings over the years, though if that was really him he hasn't been seen in centuries."

"If people stopped believing in him, would he disappear? Like Tinkerbell?" Rachel asked.

"Tinkerbell?" Quinn said. "What does she have to do with Thor?"

"Don't fairies need people to believe in them?" Rachel asked.

"Not sure where you heard that," Quinn said, " but that doesn't sound right."

"Everyone knows that," Rachel said.

"I didn't know that," Quinn said. "You're just making things up."

"I've never heard that either," Buffy said, "but we've run into things over the years where belief makes a big difference.""

"See!" Rachel said. "I'm right."

Quinn shook her head. "No, that's not how it works," she said.

"So, who was who?" Kennedy asked, interrupting them, to the obvious relief of the others.

"Who was what?" Kurt said.

"This was supposed to be a story about reincarnation," Quinn said. "Who was Brittany and who was Santana?"

"It's obvious," Santana said, "and not just because Brigid was tall, like Brit."

Brittany nodded in agreement. "I was Brigid and San was the princess. This time she got to be the warrior person."

"Brit protected me, saved me back then," Santana said."I'm just returning the favor in this life."

"Well, that's opposite from what I expected," Kurt said. "Though your'e still obnoxious like you were then."

"Can't change who I am," Santana said, grinning.

"And Brigid cared about people then and Brittany does now," Rachel said. "I can see it. And it is sort of romantic. But isn't there more to the story?"

"More how?" Quinn said.

"The wedding, of course," Rachel said, poking Quinn.

"That must have been awesome, with Valkyries running around," Kennedy said. "I wonder if Brigid sparred with any of them?"

"Not telling," Brittany said. "You'll have to wait to find out."

"When?" Rachel asked.

"The next time we do this?" Brittany said, waving at the bonfire.

"That could be years," Rachel said, pouting.

"I think this week went well," Buffy said. "You all did well with everything. We might need to do this again."


End file.
